Ready for happiness.

At long last, after many years of longing I think I might just be ready now for happiness. Certain things have passed, other things are no more and this cold, sunny afternoon has distilled into a drop of pure emotion.

A small, empty piazza in Rome comes to mind, with pigeons that lift away on dry, noisy wings from the dusty pavement. I sit down on the bench under a tree. High walls on every side with shuttered windows to keep the heat out of small apartments. No movement of air.

Two tables with a few chairs outside a dark doorway: a café bar. I drag myself over and go through the door and the air is cool, but stale. Cigarettes, fried food, beer. A girl with greasy hair tied back sets a beer on the counter. I pay for it. I drink it and go back outside to the bench beneath the tree.

By now the sun has moved and the piazza is pretty again with the shutters open and girls passing through it all bouncy and stuff, going somewhere, and I know I'm ready for happiness.