Booming thunder crashes across the city. Heavy spring rain patters against the red terracotta rooftops. The romantic sounds of Italian bounce off the aging walls, still gorgeous despite weathering the hot Tuscan sun.

I am sitting in a library (pictured above), looking more like a luxury villa than a public place of study. il Duomo is in the background, looking like a painting, a different shade of red and grey in the bleakness of rain.

The constant sound of rain helps spur my thoughts. After adjusting from the dazes of travel the thought crosses my brain, somehow someway I found myself in Florence.

I feel like I am living in a parallel universe, il Duomo dominating over the landscape like the Cathedral of Learning, dependable and modern Hillman library replaced by its Greco-Roman counterpart.

In a mix of American arrogance and pride I feel like I blend in with the Università di Firenze students sitting around me, studying with leisure, their Italian ambiance syncing with the rain. If I speak I am betrayed, my Italian broken and singular, a fact I accept with humor.

Many fears permeated over my mind as I began my study abroad journey. Besides the rigors of the coursework, I fear this journey will go by too quickly, the same emotion of spring going to summer in a breeze.