In Paris, I enjoy going to a local café to have breakfast. I sit alone at a table, sipping on a café crême and eating either a croissant or a baguette with butter and jam. After I settle in, the first thing I do is pull out a notebook and pen. I enjoy writing in public places because I don’t get distracted, yet still take short breaks to watch people walk by. My biggest distraction is my computer. Besides work I can do, projects I can tend to, there’s also the Internet where I can surf for hours.

When I am in Paris, Florence feels so far away. My last images of Florence in my head were from when the plane took off. The city was on my left out the window appearing in a hazy fog where I could only make out the Duomo, Palazzo Vecchio, and a few other buildings as well as the Arno snaking through the city. Then, the plane veered north and the city disappeared. For some reason, it is that memory of my beloved city that I take with me to Paris. Not the millions of other images I’ve seen in the last two weeks I was in Florence.

With temperatures hovering around 0°C, this morning I headed out for a run along the Arno. Last night it snowed in Florence. Tiny snowflakes aimlessly darted around the sky, lightly touched the ground, and disappeared. At times, the city looked like it was in a snow globe. I tried to take a few pictures, but the snow looked more like rain falling.