Borgo san Lorenzo train station
On a steamy Sunday afternoon I took a train to Florence from my home town.
Cicada’s shrill, taste of sweat on my lips, feeling the Italian summer of my childhood on the skin.
Walking under the fierce sun from the station to San Frediano, I stopped mesmerized by a private garden. There are so many of these hidden gardens in Florence.
I always stop under the shadow of the the gate and slyly look inside, admiring the magnificent green and the stories that can be read in those stones. It’s so beautiful, so peaceful.
Tales of past times, princesses, secrets and fairies flow in my head.
There is an old man near piazza del Carmine who always sits in this small room facing the street, all day long every day.
He doesn’t do anything, he just listens to Italian music and sits there.
Passing by in a summer Sunday is almost an oniric experience. The street is almost deserted, the stores are closed and his music floats through the door, melting in the heat and you feel almost like living in the days of your grandparents, the atmosphere of their bedtime stories.
There I met my dear friend Liza and I fell in love with her vintage blouse
We grabbed a chair and we went to see the European final match at Circolo Aurora.
Holy Mary, Jesus, the candles and the chili peppers horns didn’t help the outcome of the match, apparently.
So we decided to have a drink or two
Circolo Aurora, Viale Vasco Pratolini 2 (angle with Piazza Tasso), Florence
(the cocktails are soooo good and the place is really nice)
The day after, on my way back to the station…
View from Ponte alla Carraia, Florence
… I browsed around the city center for a little bit of shopping.
In an H&M fitting room, thanks to the three mirrors on every wall, I decided to say goodbye to my long hair like this:
Arrivederci, see you in a couple of years dear fishtail braid.
I send you a kiss that smells of sun (especially to my Belgian friends… You need it, I know)