A Love Letter

I want to blame the heat, the feverish weather, for my immediate strength of feeling. Maybe it’s simply easier to fall in love in the summer, in plus twenty degrees feeling inexplicably more positive and golden brown- a summer romance is infinitely tempting and delightfully possible. Strolling cobbled streets, exploring tiny corners, ice-cream tickling your tongue while cool river water tickles your toes- the usual cliches are fully applicable. It’s the feeling of exploration with a sense of anticipated intimacy- you know that soon you will know this like the back of your eyelids. Days spent trailing fingers along walls, eyes skyward, drinking in the architecture; visiting museums, churches, the castle; getting glazed eyes watching Gondolas or draping over bridges. Romantic tendencies usually buried in at least casual cynicism are awake and dancing.

 There’s a darker side too, love is nothing without a history- you probe into gently, explore gradually the past and swallow down the meaning thoughtfully, to embrace or accept. There are lazy days- parks and picnics, beer in the shade, sleeping lions by lakes. There are exciting days of discovery, inquisition, picking a direction and not even guessing what lies ahead, just walking. People are only background noise, in that summery hazy way they tend to be at this time of year, and when you do notice them it seems like every one of them is in love too.  Maybe it’s the romantic light, the gentleness of it, the tendency of the shade to play in the corners, the sun to play on the rivers, the way something always seems to be twinkling in the lusty heat of the day or the soft evening hush.

If I knew what it was I’d bottle it in the hope that it won’t fade as summer wanes to autumn. I have fallen in love with Nürnberg, possibly my greatest summer romance yet.

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