the view of Florence and the Duomo from my old Tuscan farmhouse (top), and the front in it's abandoned state, my bedroom window is above the arched entry (bottom)

…at least 500 years old, southeast of Florence, just up the hills of Bagno a Ripoli, right after the tiny village La Fonte is where I lived from 1993-94, and it is where I went today with my old Italian friend who I first met there, Katia, with her energetic six year old son Ottavio in tow, on a pilgrimage of curiosity to see what happened to the place that I think of often, which had such an affect on me, where I lived for a whole year on a few thousand dollars, and took hikes through the fields and farms and groves and meadows eating figs, grapes, and pears picked along the way, and where empty bottles were brought to the farmers downstairs for the fresh and out-the-window-local olive oil and wine we enjoyed, and where we looked down over the olive groves to see the Duomo in the distance over morning espressos while sitting in the window inhaling the first morning smoke of long days of making fires to stay warm – it was a year like a deep breath, or bubble in time, before starting my life of obligations.