My eyes bursted open to the clanging of the alarm. 6:00, the screen read--too early for me and the rest of the world to function. I rushed out of the apartment into the eager morning, the slight breeze making the grogginess only a little less intense.
The city is dead, but the remnants of it's life are clearly visible. Trash covered the steps of the piazza. Empty bottles of cheap alcohol scattered the way to the bridge. A man piled the trash, only to do the same the next morning. The rustle of the river was calm and soothing to my reluctant ears, repairing them from the trauma of the wake-up alarm.
Empty streets accompanied me to the bus station. The cobblestone rose to meet us, shining from the reflection of the early morning light. Trying to find support, my feet wobbled on the worn stones. I joined a small band of travelers, braving the early morning. The older man walking his dog. The eager tourist wanting a morning picture. The delivery man, box in hand, knocking on the door of the local business, hours before opening. Together, we sparsely populated the ancient streets.
A zooming bus jolted to a halt before us. We scurried on-board, only partially certain it was the right one. Experience is our greatest teacher here. We know independence does not infer you have the answers, but that you are willing to be wrong. Bus was followed by train followed by the beautiful sea. We viewed the mountains jutting into the blue expanse of crystal clear waters. A town sat adjacent from the train tracks by the bay. Earth colored buildings rose from the green of the country side.
You have a lot of time to think on a train. You can think of the beauty of the vistas and views along the tracks, the way they have been shaped and molded by weather and humans to become the landscapes they are today. You can think about life around here, how it is immensely different, but still, peculiarly the same. You think of the places you've seen and the places you will see. You think about what it means to be human and how to be more human. I mean, that's why you are here to begin with, right?
I came out of this trance, this comatose of thinking, and rested, just existing and drifted asleep. Naples was coming for us and I was ready.
The city is dead, but the remnants of it's life are clearly visible. Trash covered the steps of the piazza. Empty bottles of cheap alcohol scattered the way to the bridge. A man piled the trash, only to do the same the next morning. The rustle of the river was calm and soothing to my reluctant ears, repairing them from the trauma of the wake-up alarm.
Empty streets accompanied me to the bus station. The cobblestone rose to meet us, shining from the reflection of the early morning light. Trying to find support, my feet wobbled on the worn stones. I joined a small band of travelers, braving the early morning. The older man walking his dog. The eager tourist wanting a morning picture. The delivery man, box in hand, knocking on the door of the local business, hours before opening. Together, we sparsely populated the ancient streets.
A zooming bus jolted to a halt before us. We scurried on-board, only partially certain it was the right one. Experience is our greatest teacher here. We know independence does not infer you have the answers, but that you are willing to be wrong. Bus was followed by train followed by the beautiful sea. We viewed the mountains jutting into the blue expanse of crystal clear waters. A town sat adjacent from the train tracks by the bay. Earth colored buildings rose from the green of the country side.
You have a lot of time to think on a train. You can think of the beauty of the vistas and views along the tracks, the way they have been shaped and molded by weather and humans to become the landscapes they are today. You can think about life around here, how it is immensely different, but still, peculiarly the same. You think of the places you've seen and the places you will see. You think about what it means to be human and how to be more human. I mean, that's why you are here to begin with, right?
I came out of this trance, this comatose of thinking, and rested, just existing and drifted asleep. Naples was coming for us and I was ready.
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