I close my eyes.
I close the door to Via Sant’Orsola No.1 and turn right. My feet begin to walk. I am wearing the red patent leather flats I bought in the shop on the little street behind the Duomo. What was it called? I can’t remember. They are making a click clack sound on the damp cobblestones as I approach Via San Maurilio. I turn to my left and consider the church on the corner for a moment. Yellow with white florid details. Paint chipping. There is grass in front. An old man walks his bouncy brown dog. My eyes move back to my shoes and up my bare legs and I see the hem of my skirt which stops exactly mid-calf. It is pale yellow cotton with little red and white flowers. I have a small red handbag on my left forearm. With both hands I turn up the crisp white color of my sleeveless blouse. The old man with the dog nods approvingly in my direction. The morning sun is pouring through spaces between the buildings. I spot Ale through the window of the bar. He is behind the counter making cappuccino for the lawyer with the blue pinstripe suit. He has a red handkerchief in his left lapel. His hand is waving in the air as he leans against the bar, no doubt telling Ale about his latest case. Ale sees me through the window. He smiles and waves. I smile and wave. I smell the warm buttery brioche (that’s what Italians call croissant) but I keep walking. A Vespa purrs behind me. I step to my right so it can pass. The street is narrow and bumpy. Cobblestones. The Vespa shoots past carrying a handsome young man wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and a perfectly pressed beige Armani suit. I read the blue street sign on the side of the building as he passes. Via Santa Marta. I stop walking and say this to myself several times before I continue on my way. Buongiorno, signora! I look to my left and am greeted by a smile and wave from the man hosing down the concrete. I smile, I wave and continue my walk. I hear the dinging of the trams passing on the main road just ahead. Now the shop owners are out unlocking and opening their steel gates and preparing for their customers. It is morning in Milano.
At this point I feel the tears falling from my eyes. And just when I think I can’t take anymore, I close my eyes tighter and walk one block further. I turn another corner. The sun is brighter now. Right here from my grey chair.
I close my eyes.