A Boy & A Violin
I can't stay in Italy forever.
Welcome to Cheaper Than Therapy, a healing newsletter for 80s babies by Shani Silver. This newsletter does not publish free content, but if you’d like to read it you can subscribe here. Thank you for enjoying the work of independent writers.
Italy isn’t going anywhere. This is deeply comforting to know when you’re walking back to your hotel after your final meal, your final glass of wine, your final turn down a cobblestone street and the last scooter that almost runs you over with no remorse. It was my first trip to Italy. It is comedically far from my last.
The classic highlights and carbohydrates are all there. I did it as “right” as you possibly can when you fly to part of the world where tourism is so central to the narrative that you scarcely hear the same language twice. And if you want to hear about the churches and carbonaras and espressos I’m happy to tell you all about them in between longing sobs. But on this, my first morning home, I’d like to tell you about a boy and a violin.