a work in porgress

I wish I knew where to begin. I have been here in Italy for two months, I still don't speak the language, but I am understanding more and more all the time. I feel as though I have been walking around in a daze, only slightly aware of my surroundings. I am conscious of enough to get by but still missing the finner details that make life beautiful, that bring joy that almost always goes unnoticed. The subtleties that are the essence of something beyond normality, beyond mediocrity, to create brilliance. Italy is brilliant, her lines and colors are so much more than my understanding of what is beauty. Her details, her brilliance lies in the subtle (delicate) rhythm she creates. A rhythm that I have yet to fully hear. Like water it flows in and out, down and around seeping in the creases and cracks and down to into the depths unseen. Like water the rhythm is ever changing, as it washing away the old and brings in the new. How do you grasp something so wild, so unpredictable? How do you lead yourself to the watery rhythm?


I am ready for a rhythm of my own. I am ready to hear the heartbeat of Italy. I am ready to tune my heartbeat to it. I am eager to find my rhythm here. Some times I think I can hear it, but then it seems just out of my reach. Is it? Or am I just to afraid to really reach out and grab it, to truly take the opportunity to listen? I love it here, I really do. Italy is beautiful, the landscape, the language,the culture, the food, more than anything the people are beautiful. They all seem to have a rhythm, separate they pulse and beat each at there own pace, creating a melody that is all to beautiful for me to listen. Am I afraid to jump in to become a part of this melody? What if I am the instrument out of tune, so obviously different that it ruins what was once so beautiful?