I've been enjoying my summer so far, spending most of my time exploring Rome and writing music. The people here are lovely and there is really no limit to how many are ready to form friendships over a bottle of wine. Just last night I met another pair of couples who chatted until they missed their dinner reservation, they decided instead that we should all go to the club a few blocks over where "they play only the best of the best music". We danced until we could barely breathe and then walked as far as we could together until our paths home took us in different directions. They wish me well for my trip into France and make me promise to meet them in St Malo where they will be visiting friends in a few weeks.
Still thinking of the night before, I pull my shirt over my shoulders and open my windows wide and allow the sickly warm breeze to roll into my hotel room as I look out into the early morning. Before Rome I almost never woke before 10am, usually because I'd stayed up late to phone my long-distance love. Something about this last week however brings me to wake almost 6 hours earlier, perhaps the excitement for the day or the need for silence before the city erupts. Either way it has become a beautiful time for me where I can go for a long walk, interrupted only by the scent of fresh loaves and baked goods ready for the day ahead.
The floorboards creak below me as I walk over to the washroom. Stepping through the doorway I strongly consider if I should just lay right there on the ground and let the cold tiles provide temporary relief from the heat. Instead I perch over the basin and turn the rusting handle so that I can wash my face.
Today I'll have to catch the train to Nice where I am staying with friends. I wont arrive until late but I imagine they'll be out drinking so I'll probably beat them back to the apartment anyway. The train ride will take a while so I should be able to finish reading my book and listen to a few albums. If I get bored I can always pick up a different book when we stop in Milan.
Walking back across the room I can feel my face turning red, I always dry it too viciously with my towel. I start to pack away my belongings into my suitcase. Some shirts and pants, some CD's, a DiscMan, my wallet, books and the sweater that the lady at the store insisted I would need once I got up north. The last items remaining on the bed now are the watch I bought when I got my first job and the espadrilles that a friend left behind for me because apparently joggers are a no-go for an Italian Holiday.
I finish packing away the last of my belongings and listen for the heavy click as I lock my door behind me.
YOU ARE READING
Never Too Far
General FictionIn the early days of the summertime a journey from Rome to St Malo is due. Samar packs up his bags and sets off to explore new places, meeting gorgeous couples and old friends along the way. Though his journey brings him close to and far away from t...
