The 10-foot high French doors are wide open. (Are they called “Italian doors” since we’re in Italy?) We had a long, strong rain last night and the air is cool. The sky is blue. Someone in an apartment that faces this courtyard has the stereo playing Louis Armstrong singing “What a Wonderful World” and other American oldies that include the likes of Glenn Miller.
There are the sounds of an easy weekend morning: The tick of the gas range lighting; dishes pulled from cupboards for a meal; a not-well competing radio program. Occasionally, there is traffic noise, but surprisingly (and thankfully) it doesn’t color the sound here much. Air conditioning units add their hum, and above and beyond it all, I do hear the birds singing, here in the middle of Milano.