mongolian stole

It is Carnival in Venice, and tonight we’re dressed for the occasion. Our ensembles are accented by prized possesions celebrated the world over; Venetian Masks. Unassuming to all-encompassing, they entice us to come adorned in decadent veils of fantasy and intrigue, as we dance and delve deeper into ethereal worlds of hidden artistry identity, society, and revelry.Here, in Italy, I am vibrant and boundless. No plans, just possibilities. Every wrong turn is a detour in the right direction and every misstep is just more magic waiting to happen.In the backstreets of Rome, I scribble love notes to myself and the world on cobblestones and napkins. I unfurl beneath painted ceilings, flanked by flocks of doting cherubs. In Milan, I dance to street musicians playing my song and play the muse for poets and artists.My hair curls and crinkles fresh out of the Amalfi every morning. I leap from too-high rocks into the endless ocean and charm my way onto the backseat of a stranger’s vespa. From Ravello to Positano, to Capri and to Sorrento. An infinite loop of summer sensations.My Italy, Amore Mio.