It's 10:30am and I'm back in bed after having successfully made coffee, cut and arranged some beautiful roses in the garden. We've been staying up until midnight marveling at the light skies and the fresh flower perfumed air: Magritte with scratch and sniff.
Short plane travel between radically different cultures is exhausting. Visuals and social cues are thrown off: movement, clothes, eye contact, personal space, voice, tone, children's behavior.
Heat turpitude vanishes in this clear, crisp climate; the streets are eerily quiet in the evening, no jumbling rush in the piazza, no voices calling. Families glimpsed at windows, hanging lamps and fair bowed heads: quiet, tranquil.
