Some pieces of memories

Suddenly thought of those days in Firenze. G was ironing the curtains and sheets for me in his big kitchen.

He lives in the center of the old town, 10 minutes' walking distance to the famous Domo.
His second floor was a whole big space, with the big French windows connecting the archaic balcony.

The sun set slowly. He put one of the discs with the soft music. The golden sunshine shined in his living room as if the sea blue fridge and the dark blue sofa was plated by the extremely fine gold powder.
His hair and his back, reflected the light. And his glasses.

The crude slate floor was quite glazed. Stepping on it with the bare feet, my toes felt a little chilled, like a cool breeze or a slightly cold water. But it was very clean that you can hardly find any dust on it.
It was not easy for a bachelor to make his apartment so neat.

He ironed the white cloths. The space was slowly suffused by the humid warm air.
I stood in his orange-floor balcony casually, watching bustling tourists downstairs flowed to the Domo not far away. That beautiful church, white, blue, red and green.


The sun shined half of the balcony. I looked at him through the window.
I felt warm in my heart, as if I was taken good care of.

Before the sun disappeared, the sky was painted by the transparent pink pansy brushes.

I think if I want a man some day, he has to enjoy the moment full of peace and silence with me, and take care of me, and make my lonely heart like a piece of ironed cloth, warm and neat.

I miss his balcony, and the feeling that I had there.