From endless fog to Etruscan fountains, the archaic rolling hills of the eternal city have entangled my highly abbreviated 21st-century attention span. The vistas and monumental lifestyles of the commonwealth are far beyond any expectation that I formed prior crossing the Rubicon. “I cannot go back”, I tell myself; even during those lonely moments of longing for the snow powdered streets of Chicago and Midwestern style breakfasts. Even then, amidst my hometown withdrawal, it seems all I need do is take a walk down the straggly brick-lined streets and shout “Ciao!” to the occasional passerby to feel the unconditional love and desire I so dearly miss. I am okay mom and dad, the people here (although sometimes they do give me the glare “silly American”) love me because I too love their culture. I came to a place that I am happy to be able to call home for some time, and you need not worry; my guardians here are not only the parental SLA’s but also my foreign neighbors and centuries-old monuments (more than twice my height and I’m pretty tall) all of whom look over me with caring eyes. I will be home sooner than perspective would suggest and when I am I will have stories to tell of the Farnese’s, Cesar’s, and many more statues of the past. Figaro! Arrivederci!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
From endless fog to Etruscan fountains, the archaic rolling hills of the eternal city have entangled my highly abbreviated 21st-century attention span. The vistas and monumental lifestyles of the commonwealth are far beyond any expectation that I formed prior crossing the Rubicon. “I cannot go back”, I tell myself; even during those lonely moments of … <\/p>\n