Prologue.

Things don't typically play out as we desire them too. Though some times what happens is much lovelier, graciously granting us mercy from the vile details of life. We learn who we are with experience, people, places, lifetimes. With words we discover who we have the potential to become. And with stars and sunsets we discover what we love. That one is my favorite.

Chapter 1.

The train was now going under the English Channel. It was heavenly. I didn't take the train to the mainland often. And I definitely didn't travel as much as I needed to.

I set my pen down on my lap in the crease of my journal. I couldn't stop staring at the one line I had managed to write down. It didn't sit right with me for some absurd reason. "If I could buy feelings, this is the one I'd desire." Not often did I write something that I didn't feel, but this... It was like I was looking for something, I had no idea as to what I was feeling. I fiddled with the collection of rings on my fingers.

There was a good chance it was fear. Possibly new found freedom. All that was certain to me was that it was not inspiration. And that was the only important thing to me. Moving to Florence was my dream for years on end, I was sure that no amount of fear would force me to turn back now.

I am a writer. A poet? An author? I wouldn't yet describe myself as that, but I am a writer. I have been forever, so has everybody else on the earth. We all write, yes, but only few see the way a writer sees. Writers see the world in color, not only visually but emotional color, grabbing as many moments out of the air as they can and filling their pockets.

I am a dreamer, or so I'd like to say. Daydream believer is what my mum raised me on. Though I wonder if I'm allowed to say such things about myself. If I'm honest however, the fact that I ended up here on this train right now on my way to Italy to live for the summer is enough proof that I am who I believe I am.

I've lived alone with my mum for quite some time now, it was hard for me to leave her but it's only five months at most and I'll have a secure job at Anna's. Anna is one of my closest friends. She's nearly 67 now but she doesn't show it; she's known me for as long as I've lived. She's extremely close to my mum, but now lives carefree in Florence where she owns a pastry shop. I was just lucky enough that Anna offered me a job alongside her during my time in her beautiful city.

The sun slid it's way through the train window, it was nearly 7 a.m., and the frost on the window was disappearing rapidly. The train pulled in almost an hour later, yet no other words had made their way permanently on my page. Only a couple of scratches and doodled flowers remained.

"Darling, Darby, hello! Oh, Sweet girl!" Anna called towards me, with open arms. All I had with me was a medium-sized duffle bag and my backpack that I carry around with me everywhere, which we managed to fit on the back of Anna's moped.

The city was breathtaking, I felt a piece of my soul connected to it, radiating off of every building, every cloud in the sky and stand on the streets, back onto myself. I felt my hair whipping around behind me in the wind, as well as my top that happened to be awfully flowy. The air smelled deliciously of something I knew I needed to try, leaving me in more awe of what I'd finally accomplished. It took me years to get here. So long that this felt like the end of my story when in reality it was only the prologue. There was much more to come.

We drove past the most adorable florist shop, which I couldn't help but notice, making a mental note to one day find myself back there.

Anna turned left onto a street, it was slightly more narrow than the previous, and slowed to a stop before a lovely apartment, colored cream white. I covered my mouth in awe, there were ivy vines running along one of the walls, a peach and a yellow building hugging both sides of it. I could see a gorgeous canal just down the street, and a dainty bridge crossing over it.

"It's all yours, Darby. I'm a couple streets down if you need me, but the café is right around the corner." Anna kicked down the bike's kickstand and climbed off the side, leading me to the door. I looked up at the balcony above my head, already stuffed with Dracaena's and potted Pothos'.

It was refreshing, a perfect size with two small stories. The stairs were directly in front of the entrance, leading up to my space. Luckily, though it was a small space, it was so open and bright. Filled to the brim with natural light gleaming from the balcony directly across the room from where they were standing.

The apartment came slightly furnished, though I'd need to look for things to make the room feel more comfortable, personalized. Anna left a couple of minutes later, leaving me alone until I start working on Monday. I decided to walk around the city, mostly staying close to home so that I didn't get lost.

The first song that played when I shuffled my April playlist was "Mrs. Cold" by Kings of Convenience. I hadn't listened to the song before, maybe only twice, but I loved its simplicity and loveliness. It had an essence of care and carelessness, a balance that must be found in between the lines of life.

I found pieces of this place so comforting it was like finally returning home after a long vacation. There were flowers and plants on every windowsill and every balcony, next to every doorstop. The stone sidewalks were bustling with people, full of held hands and film cameras being held up to eyes. Mumbles in beautiful languages as a couple of honking motorbikes made their way up the alley.

It wasn't long before I ran into the flower shop I had set my mind to visiting. There was such an abundance of flowers gathering around the outside of the building, Bluebells hanging down from strings strung upon the windows and overfilling baskets of Dahlia's. I picked up two Daisies and entered through the large wooden door frame.

I instantly picked up on the scent. Flowers are said to smell good, but people expect the wrong smell. It's not supposed to smell like perfume, it's supposed to smell like a summer evening. Crisp winds and refreshing sweetness. I love how simple every flower was in it's beauty. Not to mention the fact that there were so many different kinds and colors. Easily one of my favorite parts of life.

...

"Are you looking for something in particular?" a woman asked me as I was browsing through the greens. She spoke wonderful english, which only made me feel bad that I didn't understand Italian. Her hair was jet black and held up by a single claw clip.

"--No, not really. These are all bellissimo." I smiled, happy to have remembered at least one word out of the books I'd attempted to study from.

I picked up a small spider ivy plant, one that would grow and grow until I could harvest smaller pieces of the plant into completely new spider plants. It was fascinating, and a good way to start and grow my collection in the apartment.

I brushed off my trousers and tucked my messy hair back behind my ear. With a small ivy and two Daisies, I wandered slowly around to the sections I hadn't seen yet. There was one section with pots, next to that, hangers. Then one with hanging ferns, and directly underneath that some succulents. I chose that destination to start.

"Lovely, isn't it?"

A deep, and surprisingly english voice spoke to me. I didn't turn to put a face to the voice, instead I kept my cool whilst in awe of every little cactus in front of me.

"They are, aren't they." I smiled, as my glance moved to the above ferns. I would've taken 20 if I could have. A slight sideways look told me that he was smiling as well. My typical wall of nerves fell and it surprised me. Maybe it was just the setting, but I'd always felt so restricted by myself to comfortably even talk to people. This was already so different.

A couple of moments passed and no words were said, that was until the man spoke again. "Those Daisies, erm... are they for someone? ... Or yourself?" His voice rose and fell like a child. It made my heart smile just a bit. I finally turned to him to answer.

I noticed he was wearing quite a similar outfit to myself, a white shirt and loose dress pants. There was a bandana tied around his neck and sunglasses on the top of his head, pulling his scraggly hair out of his face. A face I'd yet to have seen, then realizing I had probably been observing for a little too long. It was too familiar to forget.

"Um, yes. Yes, they are for me. Well, one of them is." I was genuinely confused, but I put up my playful confident front. "I'm sorry, have I met you before?" I asked in a particularly warm tone. It broke me into a grin.

He laughed like he'd known me for years, throwing his head to the side.

"My name is Harry." He said, calmly. It struck me, and so did the guilt. "Oh my, I am so sorry. I should have known right away. The rings, hair... It's pretty obvious. Styles." I nodded my head.

"In fact you might need a new disguise if what you're trying to do is hide from people." I laughed at him. "Maybe I'll look into that." He said, sounding amused.

I nodded towards the ferns, "I just moved in. I haven't even got furniture yet but this felt like a good place to start."

"It very much is." He answered, raising his eyebrows. Rings littered his fingers, he alone looked like some renaissance painting. Like he belonged somewhere here in Italy. I brought my two daisies, spider ivy, and a hanging fern Harry grabbed for me up to the counter to purchase it.

"Lovely daisies for the two of you." The lady said, gesturing towards Harry, who was pulling out a tulip from one of the stands in the corner. I laughed at her misunderstanding, "We're not together. I only met him just now."

"I didn't think you were. You should be though, he's handsome. Molto bello." I nodded in agreement as a joke. "He's an international rockstar, don't think that's very convenient."

"You should buy him one of those tulips," the lady suggested, leaning forward. Everyone here seemed to act like a close friend. I fell in love with that alone.

"You know what, maybe I will." I handed her an extra few euros and told her to choose whichever one she liked to give to him. "You can tell him it's from me if you'd like, or not." I smiled and thanked her before leaving.

I had no idea what that would bring me.

I feel that not knowing was the best part.