It’s hard to explain in words. It is something that has to be felt. That feeling of comfortableness. Of awe. Of familiarity, even though in all your life you have never been in this place before.
It’s the feeling of wanting to stay. The feeling of being wrapped in a giant, warm, cozy blanket. It’s seeing everything for the first time, but feeling like it’s old hat, like you know it like the back of your own hand.
It’s having never been interested in history, until now. It’s feeling like a minuscule dot of sand on a big white sandy beach, when you think of what has happened in the place you are standing. When you realise just how many hundreds of years have passed since these giant, breathtaking structures were erected. And how.
It’s eating the best pasta of your life and drinking table wine off checkered tablecloths. It’s closing down hole-in-the-wall bars with fellow Aussies you met on the train, and having the staff sitting and talking with you, making jokes in broken English.
It’s finding out that in a few short months, you’re going to be parents.
It’s talking about ways you could come back and live for a few years, and completely immerse yourself in this ancient city.
It’s visiting Rome and never wanting to leave.
Linking up with the always lovely Always Josefa for Conversations Over Coffee