A Presto.

Today is my last day in Italy. After a full month’s waiting, I can finally proceed to the next step of my adventure. Where I am going and what I will be doing is a longer story. So I will save it for later. For the time being, I can gratefully say that I am leaving. I’m not saying that I dislike this country, not at all. On the contrary, I love this beautiful place, so much. The fact that I am less melancholic than I would have been might due to the fact that I am returning on January, though just for a short time. As I finish dragging my (huge) suitcase and sit calmly on my way to Milan, I find myself having a (short) nostalgic moment.

It’s funny how I don’t feel that different, when at the same time I realized that I was quite nervous yesterday. Traveling to the airport, however it is a ‘long’ journey, feels just like another trip to the airport, to catch a 1-hour flight with the cheap airline. :p Well I guess that’s a good sign, though. In 12 hours I’ll be saying ‘ciao’ to Italy.

And it looks like the country, particularly Pavia—the city I live in—is having a melancholic moment herself. It is the end of August, middle of summer, and the sun is playing ruler at its fullest upon the atmosphere. No cloud or wind whatsoever to reduce its scorching hotness. But today, without any prior signs or forecast, it rains in Pavia. My melancholic side take it as a sad farewell, her way of saying goodbye. I will see you again after 4 months, Pavia. A presto.

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