The Painting

She was walking through the streets of Rome bathed in sunlight. Each cobblestone shone in a yellowish and warm tone. The city looked like a giant museum, bridges and classical theaters, ruins of beautiful buildings that seemed to be taken from a fantasy story. The trees brought a pleasant freshness and purified the air she breathed. It was early in the morning and only a few people were outside their homes, the birds were singing happily and the smell of coffee and pastries perfumed the squares through which she passed. With her favorite song playing in her ears, she walked determinedly towards her favorite place. "Felicità" intoned perfectly with the atmosphere and her mood, at that moment she could not feel happier. Everything around her was perfect, there and then. She was feeling the inspiration fill her from her heart to her fingers that desired to take a brush.

Upon arrival in Villa Borghese the song had already changed. Now it was "Con Te Partiro" filling her soul. She prepared her canvas and her paint, her brushes. When she was ready, she looked at the majestic landscape before her eyes. The water shone with the colorful reflections of the flowers that surrounded it. The solitary construction of four Ionic columns seemed to be admiring itself in the restless lake that swung small boats with happy couples. Persephone had already returned from Hades and her magic charmed everything around the young painter. She dipped one of the brushes in some paint and began to capture, with small brush strokes of pastel color, the harmonious landscape on the canvas.

All worry disappeared from her mind. There she was, the landscape, the canvas and the music. The song poured from the lungs of Andrea Bocelli in the heart of the girl like a mighty river that turns into a waterfall. She did not even stop to look at her grandmother's wristwatch that she was wearing on her wrist and that had left a white mark on her skin over time. The shadows moved slowly over the course of the hours. Some people had stopped to admire the piece that was about to create that amateur impressionist and had continued their way. Once the painting was finished she looked at it. Some corrections, a few more brushstrokes, a final critical look... Done! The painting was finished and it was beautiful.

Only when she was sure that her work was done did she feel the fatigue and all the effort and energy that her creation had consumed. She had not eaten in hours and so long standing had tired her legs. But she felt so satisfied and happy that those little discomforts only filled her with pride. She picked up her things and carefully wrapped the panting with her signature. She left the garden that she now knew better than ever and undertook the search for a place to rest and eat. She sat at the first café she saw and ordered a coffee, with a piece of tiramisu to accompany it. There was nothing like coffee and that delicious Italian cake. She appreciated every bit of the country because it was everything she always wanted and finally had.

Despite her patriotism, she had always wanted to explore and see the world living in any country that would welcome her. Every place she visited left a mark and a desire to return but only Rome felt like a second home to her. When she had finished recovering her strength, she paid her bill and left home distracted by the beauty of what had once been the center of the world's largest empire.

She was already at the door of her apartment and about to put her key in the lock when she felt her blood freeze. The painting... she had left it in the cafe. She returned running with her heart and mind in worry and agony. Finally she arrived and came in painting. She looked around corners and tables, asked the waiters ... nothing. The painting had disappeared. She could not help blaming herself. Each panting was like a child and she just lost one. Where could it be? Someone probably had taken it to put his name and sell it for a few Euros... She could not stand that thought, she returned home with her head down and her face red from weeping.

That night the tears poured from her eyes as if they wanted to form a new sea. The following days she did not paint. She tried to forget what happened but the frustration was too big. She had always wanted to paint that exact landscape, exactly how she had painted it. And she lost it. Her friends tried to encourage her in every possible way, in the cinema, at a party, in a gallery ... But it was useless. And she did not want to step into an art-gallery. What was once one of her favorite hobbies now was a memory of her misfortune. That's why her friend would go alone, to her partner in the adventure of being a painter seeing her like that was heartbreaking. Before they used to go together to all the museums and paintings exhibitions in the city, but now she had to try to enjoy them by herself. One day the sad artist was invited to a café by her friend. Surely another one of her attempts to encourage her. They sat down, and talked about the weather, the news, the usual. After a few minutes of small talk her friend told her that she had invited her to introduce her to someone. The surprise of the girl was capital, she was on the edge of a depression and her friend is trying to find her a boyfriend. She watched as the other girl gestured to a handsome young man sitting at the next table, who got up to grab a chair and sit next to them. She was expecting a presentation or a compliment but instead she was surprised by the phrase "I know where your painting is." escaping the mouth of the young man.

An uncontrollable heat invaded her with a thousand questions and illusions. Her friend and the gentleman got up and had her accompany them to a car that took them to a familiar building. She listened to the explanations of the couple who were giving her back her life in mere moments without being able to say anything. Upon entering the building and after going through several rooms, they entered a spacious room full of paintings, and on a lonely wall her painting was exhibited, even more beautiful than she remembered.

The girl cried and laughed with joy. For it turned out that this man provided art pieces to his favorite gallery and had found her panting in the cafe. And impressed by its beauty he had taken it to be exhibited. This was discovered by her best friend who recognized the painter's signature and informed the man so he would return the painting to its owner. The girl was laughing, not only had she found her painting, but it was also in her favorite gallery. And she remembered one of her favorite phrases: "there is no harm that does not come for good".