As morning shifted into afternoon, I trekked towards the more metropolitan part of Florence - the hotel is about a twenty minute drive or an hour+ walk to the Duomo. For the full twenty minutes, my cab driver had one hand holding his cell and the other one waving excitedly as he spoke, only briefly breaking from expression to veer the compact car in one way or another with a light press of two fingers.
I had asked him to drop me at Syracuse's building, without considering the weekend hours. Still on his call, the driver slowed, pointing out towards what I assumed was SU Florence. I could feel his eyes on me as I approached the great double doors and attempted to open a very closed building. With flushed cheeks, I instinctually swerved in the other direction, avoiding eye contact with the knowing driver.
6 hours later and I had made friends with this intimately beautiful city - all the while having little to no idea where I was. Each turn and my eyes would feast upon something just as compelling, drawing me forward with ease.
As the day moseyed on and the sky began dimming, strings of twinkling lights laced as temporary canopies enveloping the tapered stone streets. They carried me from one road to the next and just as the last suggestion of sun lingered up above, the Arno river came into view ahead.