Cioccolata

Day 7, break bread at breakfast before it leavens

Brush my teeth, make a bed see Uffizi before 11

The son of Valerie making trips to Accademia Galleries

Enunciate "Annunciation" straight to heaven

No salary, I need a patron

Deck me out in robes, give the goatee a great trim

If the shoe fits, wear it, J's, Tims

My metabolism makes it so I'll stay thin

Ciao bella, ladies beseech me

trying to have and keep me

Looking like I'm paid on Medici

levels

You'll never reach these

Unless you see my face in the bass and a rebel in the treble

Clean cut but still disheveled

I don't know much about art but I know what I like

So I'll take part in gazing at Santa Maria tonight

Whether the moon is full, or it still wants a slice

Getting lost in tri-color has become my new vice

Italian Soundtrack by C.A pt. 7: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mtA9GvpzwU

I can't help but remember the last time i was in love. It seems like all of that occurred on a different planet, let alone different time. Does the use it or lose it concept apply? If so, does that make the Grinch a lie? I can't help but wish for a vessel for all of my adoration, like in those alien days. It makes every moment sharper, every second humming along with an extra resonant twang. I've though about love so many times, I'm not sure what I ponder is even love at all-just another lofty ideal in my cumbersome bag of conceit. Do I engage in the rigmarole again, just to sacrifice later? Inevitably, my choice will be myself. That's the lesson I've learned in Firenze. Short term gratification is how it appears. Like a $1.50 cup of gelato-delicious until all you're left with is a plastic shovel. I'm not saying it appears similarly to anyone else, but short and sweet is a combination that will always go hand-in-hand. As i gaze up at a building older than my culture, it's easy to reflect on the countless loves that have continues history. wars fought, sleep lost, tears shed, all over an intangible element. Dante and Beatrice, Helen and Paris, Chris and Lauren. How silly it is, to see those names together, knowing that the titleholders have long since frayed their ties. Death will do that. Sometimes I pretend that the people we were, are still around-just across a bridge or on the opposite park bench, but they are dead, just as surely as Antiquity. I can look upon that husk and understand its entirety but this cocoon that speaks now, can't look outside of the box yet. So I guess it boils down to fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of pain, fear of spreading wings that could never carry this weight. My own personal boogie man leering from two hours ahead. I can't help but remember the last time I was in love, because I can't forget it. Fear could never cloud that beauty.

You really have to try to be unhappy here, it's not a naturally occurring phenomenon. Good food, good drink and most importantly, good friends makes Firenze's claim as the city of light rings true. In the shadow of the 15th and 16th centuries' greatest accomplishments, you'll find a bustling night life filled with street performers, smiling faces and of course gelaterias.

I've probably consumed a dozen panino at this point, so I've decided to break down just what this delicious concoction.

Originally, this basic sandwich had working-class Italian origins. The first sandwiches were made with a simpler recipe: a single filling, usually meat, paired with a rustic bread. Cured meats, such as prosciutto, salami or pancetta, were often used because they didn’t require refrigeration. Panini were usually eaten on the go as a quick meal or snack and weren’t toasted or grilled.

Over the years, panini grew in popularity and ingredients began to evolve. Rustic breads such as ciabatta, francesino and focaccia became the signature foundation of the sandwich (sliced bread is not used for panini — those sandwiches are called un tosto). People also began to experiment with fillings. Cheeses, from mozzarella to brie, became standard and added welcome depth and flavor. Vegetables — including tomato, arugula, eggplant, or butternut squash — brought garden-fresh taste and texture. Pesto, herbs, olives and even anchovies were added to balance and complement flavors. The combinations are endless and make each panino an individual dining experience.Somewhere along the way, a crucial discovery was made: while a regular panino is good, a toasted panino is even better.

I have no shoes, I'm in pajamas and yet I feel the compulsion of adventure at 2:00am. As I gaze at myself in the Hotel Pendini lobby mirror, I wonder if seeing Santa Maria at night is worth whatever sacrifice I could put upon the altar. It's only a few minutes, if that. Sure I could be mugged, but what would they take, this notebook? That'd surely be a shame because I could never recreate this. I would rather lose my life; there are many ways to recreate that. Seeing the accomplishments of acclaimed artists, their work still bathed in reverence five hundred years later, I feel very small. To make an everlasting mark, I must make an impression of equal significance. The question is, with what? Are these petty words worth anything but the price of ink spent or can they possibly hold weight for a third party? All men ponder the nebulously romantic concept of legacy. How will you be remembered and what will define you? If you're lucky, history will remember you for more than one thing, but for most, a single project or solitary event ends up summarizing the trials and tribulations of a man in a paragraph. The nuances of struggle are long forgotten but the triumphs in between shine like beacons for future romantics, like this author. I think I'm gonna go for that walk. Rest assured, I'll regret it later but now, now is the time to eradicate pre-conceived notions and live. That is the only way my legacy can stand above the shoulders of my forefathers. I will be the standard.

Worth it?