My favourite hour of the day is 5 PM. At that hour, the sun shines through the corner of my window, beyond the trees of an almost-plastic green. That's the hour when the noisy neighbours seem to be exhausted of all their commotion and retire back into their house. That's the hour when I put on my shoes and a dress and leave the house, to wander around the streets before buying some salad for dinner and giving up on productivity.

I have a brand new bottle of Fragolino. I thought it would be a good idea, since I enjoyed it so much in Rome, when Alex and I drank it in a very dignified manner that did not end up some policemen telling us off for public drinking after 9 PM and something about getting lost and trying to pretend the bottle was closed, until we finally made our way back to the safety of the hostel's kitchen. It's different here in Florence, though, and I have nobody here to drink it with.

I've been craving good, fresh things. Everything else feels quite dusty here. I'm eating strawberries.

I might check out the Biblioteca delle Oblate today. I miss Rome. I wish I could go home.