During my last 10 months in Italy, before leaving for Sweden, I met many people, among which there were three guys that I found attractive. The first one was a Brazilian guy. We talked about philosophy, and he asked me out for a coffee. He was two years younger than me, and we only met a few times as he was about to leave the city. We never spoke again after he left. It was the first time in my life that I was impressed with a guy who hadn’t tried to make me feel that way.
The next one was a Russian guy with a casual style who has traveled to most of the countries in the world. He was five years older than me. I found him interesting because he could teach and inspire me a lot. He was also about to leave the city, so we spent lots of time together before he left. I have many things in common with this guy, and we kept communicating a lot while apart.
Finally, there was the third guy. He was Italian, and we were the same age. Our first meeting wasn’t meant to be anything other than a classmate meeting another. However, after a few hours, he showed his gentlemanly sides, asking me if my hands were cold and offering me his gloves. We met a few times, and then he left for the Christmas Holidays, and when he came back, I was already gone to Milan and then to Sweden.
It is actually in these moments that you start to acknowledge what it means to move from one place to another. And then you ask yourself, why is this keep happening for me? And then your mind wonders how many relationships or friendships would have started to build or strengthen if you stayed there. And then fear of losing the nice people you met comes. Then you begin to appreciate more what you have and experienced, being more grateful for all those friends you made that made your world more beautiful.
A slice of me 