... to live in the summer in the heart of a great ancient city.
through the open Window blows out at 22:30 clock and then a refreshing wind in the warm room. He often carries around the corner from the restaurant located a subtle roast and / or herbal scent with it.
In Piazza yap immigrants from Ethiopia, hiding under the parked cars, the cardboard boxes they had in the evening up on the streets of small sales tables on which they offered their faked Rolex watches, Gucci sunglasses and YSL Handbags . A cat in heat,
border. Seagulls laugh. A baby gurgles enthusiastic, while the wheels of his stroller on the old Pflater rattle. Dad makes jokes and says something like "You do not take us again for watching football with. You will indeed not at all tired today ... "
A homeless man is mitverpflegt from our kitchen and earns money to help in our close Piazza cars when parking in narrow gaps that still listens to on his iPod mini speakers on 80 hits ( "Girls just want to have fun ..." ). In about an hour, he will go in the socks and spend the night somewhere.
Somewhere a phone rings somewhere bangs a door, somewhere is a rinse.
And then there are suddenly more minutes of silence in which you only the very delicate tapestry of sound from the Campo dei Fiori and the traffic on the Via Arenula heard.
But soon is certainly the next knatterige Motorino fried around the corner or another young couple strolling about the place itself - good Italian - once loudly zoffend and then as much again contract that I am always here catch on to wait for the next stage directions.
There is always something going on ...
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