I wake at 5 am thanks to the fucking nap, and linger in bed for 2 hours before breakfast. This time I secure myself some goddamn dinner rolls moments before the germans clear them out. There is only hot cappuccino milk foam for the cereal. We retrieve our tickets to calvi, and search for smoothies in vain, before embarking on our journey to the countryside. Once you get 15 minutes out of Rome, the grafitti diminishes down lusty green and meadowy vistas. The farmhouse we are staying in for the next 3 weeks adjacent to the monastery, is out of a dream, astride a hilltop overlooking olive groves and figs. And table tennis. I lean out our window taking pictures before being pulled away for lunch. The nap is 3 hours this time but I'm up in time for dinner of homemade chicken soup, regaled by burning man stories by our hosts Betsy and christopher, before wine and steak. The heat is broken, so we take ourselves to bed thankful for a being to nestle against, because it's fucking cold in here.
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