Florence Was Perfect. I Was Restless.

Everyone posts about picnics in Florence like it’s a postcard come to life. Mine was a plastic bag of grapes and stale bread on a patch of grass, watching couples take selfies in the sun. I thought the city would fill me up—art, light, all that Renaissance beauty. Instead, I felt like I was waiting for something to click. You can be surrounded by everything you’re supposed to want and still feel the itch under your skin. Maybe that’s what travel is: not an escape, but a mirror. I finished my grapes, packed up my crumbs, and wandered off, still hungry for something I couldn’t name. #TravelConfessions #FlorenceUnfiltered #RestlessAbroad #Travel