from brooklyn to italy

I’ve been vacant a few days. This has resulted in a couple of interesting things. I shook my boyfriend off once and for all. I tried to be upset, but I’m used to dumping boyfriends by now.

I’m not even sure if these people are boyfriends. Maybe they’re just lovers I briefly obsess over because I’m fond of the poetry it all bleeds.

In order to cheer myself up, I figured going out with a new stranger might take the edge off. And to be completely honest, it absolutely did.

I’ve spent the past three days with an Italian Luthier. Not Italian like Brooklyn Italian, Italian like, “I left Italy three years ago for New York City.”

Regular readers know that living in another country for ten years has curved my lean toward my international tribesmen. It’s not that I don’t appreciate Yanks, or where I came from. But there is something innately fetching to me about spending time with humans hailing from countries outside of where I grew up.

Cue the Luthier…

Aside from the Italian accent being one of the most alluring tones to¬†enter my earshot, when it’s coming from the lips of one of the most considerate, sparkling, artistic creatures I’ve encountered – who just happens to make double basses for a living… I’m sure you can imagine.

Me spending three days straight with anyone breaks records. I’ve spent most of my day pondering that. Pondering that, and listening to this:

To the future, which also happens to involve me flying to Tahiti this Saturday. And to the Luthier. He definitely made me look.


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