While in Verona, Italy last year, we stumbled upon (if such a thing is possible) a very good older band playing all kinds of Sinatra, Martin, and others. Everyone was having a good time, and even a curmudgeon such as myself was smiling and tapping along.
These three girls were dancing along to the delight of all adults there. It started with the girl in pink, whose energy was infectious enough to inspire the other two – and then several adults – to dance whether or not anyone was looking.
I got lost in a romantic notion of a place where people really enjoy themselves without their vanity suppressing them. I knew I could love living in a place like this.
Earlier we had seen a peaceful comingling of bird and human (prompted by bread crumbs, natch) and the lovelocks at the little courtyard which brings in the wall-to-wall crowds for the fictional Juliet’s balcony.
On the way in, a wall has been set aside for the pens of hopeless/hopeful romantics.
But it was watching those carefree kids that became one of those quantum moments, where you know you’re never quite the same person from there on.
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