Talk about putting your best [building] face forward. Also, sometimes when I look at this photo with my head tilted to one side, the building reminds me of a train. Is that crazy-talk?
I originally took this photo (and several other paparazzi-esque shots like it) because I fell in love with that cuddly-looking pink-tongued fluffy dog of wonderment. However, I’ve since decided that my favourite part of the image (or the moment) is the way the crossed legs are perfectly in sync with each other.
I’ve created an entire life story for the owners of the legs-and-feet, too. It involves their eyes meeting across a smoky trattoria one rainy night, it involves sharing cigarettes (lordy-pie Italians love to smoke) over breakfast every morning, and it involves the realisation that a soulmate is someone whose seated mannerisms mirror your own. (Does that make them solemates? Hideous dad-pun-joke ahoy!)
In my opinion, Italian police uniforms are the best in the world. There are so many different styles, and I like to pretend that these differences have nothing to do with duty or rank and everything to do with individual fashion choices. All I know for sure is they looked so cute I almost stopped worrying that they’d find out about my [insert hilarious illegal activity here].
Okay. Folks. I’m calling on you for help right now. The blue-veined orbs in the white tub at the right-end side of the back row… what are they? I’d really like someone to tell me that they aren’t testicles. Being told that would make me happy.
Phew. That’s a far nicer image to have in my mind when I think of Florence.
As is this. Even if it does look like Cupid is trying to shoot himself with his own arrow of love. Well, actually, that makes sense if you think about it from a Self-Help Literary Genre perspective. Aren’t we always being told we have to love ourselves before anyone else can truly love us?
This is almost pretty, right? All the colours (well, gradations of brown) and textures and everything? Well, friends, I have some words of advice for you. If you decide to start experimenting with a raw vegan snack inspired by your gorgeous Little-House-On-The-Prairie soul-friend Amber, don’t think you can be clever and make multiple substitutions. Try to remember that agave is quite sweet and molasses is quite not, and that coconut oil is a quite sweetish-neutral oil whereas sesame oil is definitely not.
Because of my not remembering these several pertinent facts, I ended up with not-sweet-but-strangely-vaguely-coffee-flavoured pucks rather than Amber’s flaxseed pancakes. They were edible when dipped into maple syrup, but I’d much rather look at this photo and pretend it’s a picture of felafel. Mmm, felafel.
P.S. I did bake something worthy of its own name this morning, though. Look forward to that one!