Rues of Roo

Da Paolo Pizza Bar

You’re woken up to the sound of children laughing in the courtyard, the patter of their feet playing a game you can only imagine. The sun streams in through the half open grill on the window and a cool morning breeze gently rustles the leaves of the plants outside and graces your bare back. Stretch. You lie there, momentarily, and turn to stare blankly at the ceiling, the shadows of the plants from outside dancing entrancing, free. You think about the previous night, smiling slightly at the brief memories.

You look over to the beautiful girl next to you, she’s already awake, just staring at you with those gorgeous brown eyes of hers. Her hair falling neatly down her bare shoulders…

Okay, scratch.

You look over and reach for your phone to check the time, mentally calculating the hours you have slept, ensuring it is at least significantly more than a normal working day. You sigh, you have to leave the bed.

You swing your legs over the edge, reach for the heavens and drag your feet over to your itunes where you look through a morning song. Goo Goo Dolls maybe, James Morrison. Hmm. Then again, Nelly Furtado catches your eye. Give It To Me.

You shower, change, shorts first, then a slim fit polo, and open the fridge to pour yourself a glass of Tropicana orange juice. With bits included. Yeah you know some people don’t like it, but hey. The laundry basket goes into the washing machine, (whites only of course) and then you start it. You grab your havaianas, your keys, your phone, your wallet, oh, your vain aviators making sure you haven’t left any lights on, open the door, lock it, and head off.

The blue sky above and the warm air welcome you as your stroll out of your block. Couples, families, dogs abound as you head down the road. Quaint book shops, the aroma of different cuisines as you walk past each restaurant, the laughter of those enjoying each other’s company. You receive a call and you answer ‘I’m nearly there,’ you explain, ‘yes, I just woke up’ followed by a hearty laugh (almost pirate like, yes) yar har har, it’s all too common on the weekends.

But you reach there in the end, slightly late, but to no matter, the party started without you. Lunch, brunch, whatever it is, the company matters more.

Fiorentina.