I lived in Italy from 2004-2005 and I’ve been missing it so much this weekend. Sometimes I know that I was born in the wrong place at the wrong time and should have been this age in the 60s and 70s and in Europe. The visuals I get sometimes in my head of experiences Ive had there or experiences I dream up are so real. I can taste, touch, and feel things like a movie. I’m sure you kind of know what I mean. Maybe not.

I want to ride trains across landscapes and taste foods that are heirloom, coffee that’s been made the same way for 75 years, sweaters that were built to last, laughs that don’t have hidden agendas, air that’s been breathed by people building aqueducts and creating masterpieces.

I want design that is timeless, buildings that were planned and executed with grace; where they avoided temporal grandeur of the ego of the architect for foresight of what will continue to be beautiful.

Things are different in Europe. These movies play in my head, I’ve always escaped to somewhere else my whole life, yet at least I’ve pinpointed a latitude and longitude. America gets so draining sometimes. New York is…. Exhaustive. I never felt tired there, no matter how much I was. You have to filter New York streets sometimes to siphon away the jerks + the mistakes for the beautiful things, yet in Europe, they’re all out for the taking.


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