wade in the wake of it.

Now there is no way I am supposed to be in this train car. When the man checking tickets smirked winked and a punched a whole in my ticket I chocked it up to Italian gusto but as Im offered complimentary champagne I much better understand his message. On a strange whim I wore a black dress to travel in, and now as the Dolce and Gabana bags pass my seat I'm happy with my decision. I can’t help but feel that this train is taking me home, there’s a certain warmth that was uniquely Italian that is replaced with arrogance in the city of Geneva. I hadn’t noticed its absence until I was reminded by kind this slight of hand. Maybe its my grandfathers botched Italian slang that makes me particularly fond of this country, who knows. As I switched trains in Milan Beethovens Fifth was playing and I couldn’t help but smile. Brian will be waiting for me at the train station, and I look forward to spending my last day in Utopia with a new friend from Geneva. He is a small guy who dresses clean and would always bounce into my room to share chocolate or chat about the silly happenings of the day. His air of fabulous follows him and I will gladly wade in the wake of it. I have that itching yet again to leave my cares packed in my bags and let the beauty of Rome engulf me. Now there’s plenty to worry myself with but they are not going anywhere fast and will surly be waiting for me upon my arrival home. Its as if the wind nudged me into this first class seat to remind me to enjoy myself. Grazie.