Didn’t do a lot yesterday, took the day off and read…. But I’ve included some previous day photos. In fact we have so many photos we could pretend we were still here for another month! Or maybe we are….

(Another view of the Duomo.)

I was reading an article from the online version of the British Telegraph newspaper, it was written by a guy called Mic Wright, who lives in Dublin. The article was about how hard it is to be a writer nowadays. “The currency of the written word has been devalued”, there’s so much writing and it’s free. So why would anyone want to pay you to do it?

(There are lots and lots of scooters)

I don’t know him but it sounds like he’s having a bad day. But if he stops writing I’d be sad because in that short article there was some beautiful words. For example, words  “spill forth from the internet like water from a broken valve”, yummy! He talks about telling his teenage self to give up the dream of being a writer, now I’m sad again.

(Artist at work outside the Uffizi…. she reminded me of Nolene, and it could be Nolene! Hello New Zealand!)

But the saddest bit? The comments. They were some very cranky people commenting but that’s not the sad bit. The sad bit was one of the commenters was a parent with a seventeen year old son. The son wanted to be a writer. The parent needed the son to know that writing didn’t bring in money so it was not worth the son’s passion. He was going to send the article to his son, because he was “not prepared to support him until his 40’s.” I wanted to tell the parent that encouraging his son to follow his passion does not automatically lead to having to support him financially until he’s 40. And I want to tell him, please, encourage your son to follow his passion….. But I am not brave enough to comment on the site with the cranky commenters…

(Giubbe Rosse bar/cafe in Piazza della Repubblica Florence, favourite haunt of writers over the years)

I think most people will agree with the parent and that makes me even sadder. So, I’ll stop now.

“The path will call to you, and you’ll find yourself on it. The way to begin is to stand…. waiting, waiting… breathlessly waiting.” Carlos Castaneda.

I’m off to ponder on the beauty of Florence, Mairead.