I recently recieved a postcard from a dear friend of mine who is currently in Italy. What I beautiful country. I made me go digging through my thing to find an old scrapbook and its entries... I never wanted to leave, for I had fallen in love, in love with Rome; its skylines, medieval towers, the fountains, the Vatican, the Sistine chapel, the Roman Colosseum, pagan temples, monasteries, and the gardens. On our last night in Rome I left the hotel and started walking, as the night circled around me the steady glow of the street lamps caused my shadow to dance across the sidewalk. It was late but the city was still alive, people were still on the move, still holding on to the darkness. The summer air was heavy and sweet, music drifted around the town. I sang along to the songs even I didn’t know the words, and danced instead of walking. My English muffled by the steady streams of different languages floating in the night breeze. With no destination in mind, I followed the enticing music; the distant wind swirling around as the stars danced overhead. Looking forward I realized I had reached the Trevi Fountain, I reached into my pocket and took out a coin. I tossed it in, closed my eyes, and wished that one day I would return to this foreign town and dance under these same stars.