Missing Genoa ...

The oddest thing is the fact that I begin missing Genova as I pass through that halfway-through-my-stay mark.

I notice suitcases rolling along the alleyway below Paola’s apartment and I know it’s silly to think of them because I still have the other half of my time there left to experience ... but I begin noticing them anyway.

I think I’ve lived one of those lives where I am always searching for someplace else ... someplace perfect.  And sometimes I’ve come so close to finding it but life has seen me pack up and move on again.

‘So close’ is knowing where to put my desk and having a place to restore my soul.  The crazy falling-down cottage in Broad Bay was something like that ... out on Portobello Road, and the wooden cottage with the exquisite verandah on Matariki Street too.  I loved life in Te Anau because of the lakes and mountains and a friendship with a potter there. I loved Blenheim for Anakiwa and Cromwell for Arrrowtown and Queenstown.

Maybe the next half of my life has to be about finding my place.
Let’s see it.

Meanwhile, I took this photograph while wandering on Via Garibaldi I think, or perhaps Via Cairoli.  I loved the painting and loved the reflections.  I have hundreds, if not 1000s, of photographs from my time spent wandering Genovese streets. I think there's a book ...