Eternal Summer in Tuscany

Chapter 3: The view from above

(This chapter is long😭)

Aurelia's Point of View:

By the time I left my apartment, the sun had started its descent, casting a warm, golden glow over Florence. The evening air was cooler, with a gentle breeze that rustled through the narrow streets. I made my way to the Ponte Vecchio, the ancient bridge that had withstood centuries of history. As I walked, I marveled at how different the city felt compared to New York. Here, time seemed to stretch and soften, as if the past and present existed in perfect harmony.

When I reached the bridge, Matteo was already there, leaning against the stone railing, his camera hanging around his neck. He looked up as I approached, and his face lit up with a smile that instantly put me at ease.

"Aurelia," he said, pushing off the railing and walking toward me. "You're right on time."

"Of course," I replied, smiling back. "I wouldn't want to miss this view."

He glanced at the river, where the fading light danced on the surface of the water, turning it into liquid gold. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Florence has a way of taking your breath away, no matter how many times you see it."

"It does," I agreed, resting my hands on the cool stone of the bridge. "It feels like stepping into a painting."

Matteo nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. "That's what I love about this city. It's like living in a work of art. Every corner, every street, has its own story, its own history. It makes you feel like you're part of something much bigger than yourself."

We stood there for a moment, both of us lost in the beauty of the scene. The Arno River flowed beneath us, the water calm and reflective, mirroring the colorful buildings that lined its banks. In the distance, the dome of the Duomo rose majestically against the sky, a testament to human ingenuity and faith.

"So," Matteo said, breaking the silence, "are you ready to see something even more breathtaking?"

I turned to him, intrigued. "Even more breathtaking than this?"

He chuckled. "I promise you, the view from where we're going is one of the best in all of Florence."

With that, he led me through the city, weaving through the crowds with an ease that spoke of familiarity. As we walked, we talked about everything and nothing—our favorite places, our work, our love for travel. I found myself opening up to him in a way that surprised me. There was something about Matteo that made me feel comfortable, like I could be myself without fear of judgment.

"Have you always lived in Florence?" I asked as we turned onto a quieter street.

"No," he replied, glancing at me. "I grew up in Brazil, in a small town near the coast. My family moved to Italy when I was a teenager. My father was an artist, and he fell in love with Florence when we visited one summer. We decided to stay, and I've been here ever since."

"That must have been a big change," I said, imagining what it would be like to leave everything behind and start fresh in a new country. In a way, it mirrored my own journey, though mine was temporary.

"It was," Matteo agreed. "But it was also the best thing that ever happened to me. Florence became my home, and I found my passion here—photography."

"You're very talented," I said, recalling the way he'd been engrossed in his sketchbook at the café. "Do you work as a photographer?"

He nodded. "I do. I mostly shoot landscapes and portraits, but I also work on personal projects. I try to capture the essence of a place or a person, to tell a story through my images."