The act of walking is a constant sequence of losing and regaining your balance.
Florence and Cimitero Delle Porte Sante
The act of walking is a constant sequence of losing and regaining your balance. I learned this from my physics teacher somewhere in seventh or eighth grade and I’ve kept thinking about it ever since. It was my first encounter with scientifically elegant thinking....
It was an early autumn Florentine afternoon – fragrantly warm, gloriously sunny, the air sparkling with freshness born out of yesterday’s rain. We had climbed the steep streets of Oltrarno, the less noble but dignified Florence neighborhood on the other side of the Arno River. We...
To borrow heavily from the White Queen, sometimes I have defined happiness in as many as six different ways before breakfast. Happiness is: Sleeping in Waking up to the smell of fresh coffee Outdoor jog on a sunny morning More coffee + reading...
I’ve never disliked a year enough to feel truly happy to see it go and I’ve never been able to master too much enthusiasm for a new one on day one. January 1st falling on a Sunday, my least favorite day of the week, doesn’t...
Loving autumn did not come easily to me. As far back as I can remember, for me there was only one unquestionable definition of the good life – summer, sunshine, beach time. I grew up in a small town on the right bank of the...
Such a beautiful morning for a run. Cloudy and quiet, the only sound that of crickets singing in overdrive. The approaching rain did not feel as close as it turned out to be. The first cool droplets met me when I still had a...
August is like that peach syrup I remember from my childhood. A neighbor had made some from the peaches in her garden and treated me to an unforgettable glass of it. And so this is how I always imagine August – its color...
