I settled into a kitchen chair, in a crooked shaft of sunlight streaming in from slanted wooden shutters, and took a sip of my espresso. Breakfast for one. The colours of my Tuscan countryside shone in, caressing the table in slivers of gold, crimson, purple, green. And I thought to myself, perhaps it is possible to be happy like this. To eat, drink, savour, and dream in shades of quiet adventure. Perhaps, I thought, it is possible to live for colour.

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