Florence at Sunset, Time Paused

Walking through Florence at sunset and I swear time just stops here. The cobblestones

are uneven under my feet, centuries old, worn smooth by millions of footsteps before

mine. Every corner reveals another postcard. Terracotta buildings glow amber in this

light. An old woman waters her geraniums three stories up. The smell of fresh

bread drifts from a bakery I can't see. A couple shares wine at a tiny table,

laughing about something. The church bells ring six times. I'm not rushing anywhere.

No agenda. Just wandering. This is what they mean when they say Europe changes you.

It's not the monuments or museums. It's these quiet moments between destinations.