Do you ever think that you could have lived a thousand different lives, all at the same time? I left pieces of my heart in every new city that I dragged my MEC backpack through, I re-stitched that Canadian flag on the side so often that I carried a needle and red and white thread in my pocket. By the time I arrived in Italy, my heart had been broken in pieces and I didn’t think even a shard remained. I had lived lifetimes in evenings. My hand out the window of a bright blue VW with early 2000s German rap playing in one ear and the tickle of an accent in the other. And at 2am I lay awake in a flat filled with French books and posters of films I'd never seen, somewhere near the best spätzle joint in Berlin precisely 7 233km from home, and I’d think to myself: this could be your life. But it wasn’t. Because my wild, wild heart, the broken one, wanted other lives in other forlorn dots on the map. So I followed her like a reckless lost girl and we went to Paris and kissed tombstones with red Chanel lipstick, we slept off vodka as a train rattled across the black Siberian midnight, we danced until my clothes were drenched in Costa Rica, called taxis and pretended to speak Spanish and bit into mangoes warm from the tree on the streets of Kathmandu, the Himalayas watching our every move. In all of that recklessness, in the foreign faces touched with my eyes, with my lips, we lived. I lived those thousand lives. Then I brought the only piece of my heart to Italy, tired and dull, and a boy thought it was enough and it was. One thousand and one.
Important Note:
A note on this new category "Creative Writing". Writing has always been a love of mine and is one of the main reasons I started to blog in the first place, basically to have a reason to write. At times, I feel like I need to be able to indulge in some creative writing in addition to the informative content I provide about expat life and all things Italy and Italian. So every once in awhile for now on, you may see some short pieces pop up with the header of Creative Writing. Just know they are my little experiments and that they should be considered fiction unless otherwise stated, although as is the case for most writers, inspired in some ways by my own experiences. Thanks for reading.
For a bite-size snack of make-believe romance, read these short stories:
Creative Writing: A Sunday Kind of Love
Creative Writing: Perfect Strangers in Switzerland
Creative Writing: Rooftops and Rome
Creative Writing: The Morning After in New York
Creative Writing: Mulberries in Sicily
Important Note:
A note on this new category "Creative Writing". Writing has always been a love of mine and is one of the main reasons I started to blog in the first place, basically to have a reason to write. At times, I feel like I need to be able to indulge in some creative writing in addition to the informative content I provide about expat life and all things Italy and Italian. So every once in awhile for now on, you may see some short pieces pop up with the header of Creative Writing. Just know they are my little experiments and that they should be considered fiction unless otherwise stated, although as is the case for most writers, inspired in some ways by my own experiences. Thanks for reading.
For a bite-size snack of make-believe romance, read these short stories:
Creative Writing: A Sunday Kind of Love
Creative Writing: Perfect Strangers in Switzerland
Creative Writing: Rooftops and Rome
Creative Writing: The Morning After in New York
Creative Writing: Mulberries in Sicily
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