eight years ago

dear italy,

I love you. I know, everyone is always telling you that. are you tired of hearing it? are you bored with the way the world loves you and goes on and on about you? I'm sorry but it's true. you must be seen to be believed. and have you noticed how everyone always thinks they love you most? that their love is deepest? if I were lesser person, I would take this opportunity to point out that, in fact, my love for you reigns supreme. truly, I am the one who loves you most. but I'm going for higher ground here and will refrain from such nonsense. also, I will try to remember it's not a contest, that there's enough of you to go around. (but I love you) (more)

it's been eight years since I last saw you and I can't believe it. I've been in love with you ever since. each year around this time, I get all nostalgic and soft in the eyes over you. I am so predictable. I remember the first time we met, how hard I fell. I look at the photographs, watch the video footage. sometimes I talk while I do this, to no one in particular, to anyone who will listen. I re-read the journal entries and press my nose into the spine of the little book I bought during our visit. it was the second day of our trip and I remember how happy I was to have stumbled down into that tiny basement paper shop in venice. that little suede book, it smells just like you-- sweet and earthy. each page is covered with so many words, so many funny little drawings. if I shake it hard enough, things fall out. bright-colored stamps, papery flower petals, bits of tuscan dirt, exotic italian candy wrappers. you should know, I dream about you often. and the dreams are good, they are always good.

so that's it, really. I just wanted to tell you how much I miss you. and love you. and want to come back.

xo,

your biggest fan

p.s. we took so many photographs of you. roll after roll after roll after roll. have you seen them? you look good. like, really really good.