What makes me feel so ease in places far from home, I wonder. Generally speaking, the thought of being away from one’s sense of comfort, your own things, your home, tends to induce a sense of anxiety, stress, even panic. And yet, I feel most like myself. It’s as if a switch turns on and the curious child in me comes to life; eyes glazed with curiosity and enthusiasm. I can, for a fact say, that I’m easily stimulated by my surroundings. I crave it. A few weeks back when I strolled through the streets of Florence, I stumbled on a carousel in the middle of a piazza and it immediately made me pause. It was like something out of my imagination. Perhaps it was the juxtaposition of this whimsical piece amidst the ancient, peachy-hued buildings that caught my attention. I walked by this carousel probably more than ten times a day; usually on my way for another gelato. I threw glances in it’s direction, flirting with the idea of hopping on for a ride.
I suppose it’s these fleeting moments, the fear that you may never return to that very same place, that makes us take more risks. On the last morning of my trip, I decided to wake up before sunrise and indulge my childish enthusiasm. A cappuccino and fruit brioche were, conveniently, on the way. And so, I paid 2 euros to ride before the carousel opened to the public. While we snapped photos of this pretty, blue lace dress from Banana Republic, the music and lights turned on and, for a moment, the lines of imagination and reality became blurred.
I couldn’t help but wonder, how do we lose our imagination? It can’t simply be due to age. Are we that lost in our everyday responsibilities to notice the bits of magic around us? Or perhaps, we forget to create that magic entirely on our own…
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