Mea fancied pistachio. Colombine wanted chocolate. Lu Cia hadn't decided yet, but she definitely wanted to try the others. That was how our Italian agreement began. It had little to do with the map, but it proved remarkably useful at the stops that followed.
An imagined trio story inspired by original Travel2City photographs. Venice, Florence, Rome and Lake Garda form a collage of separate journeys, not a one-day itinerary. The dialogue, incidents, shared table and evening light by the lake are artistic additions.
On a small bridge in Venice, the ice-cream debate ran unexpectedly long. Mea defended pistachio with the conviction of someone choosing a future home. Colombine merely raised an eyebrow. “Chocolate doesn't need defending.” Meanwhile, Lu Cia watched the houses reflected in the canal. “Couldn't we each have our own and borrow a little?” She suggested it so calmly that, given the seriousness of the discussion, it was almost provocative. Mea laughed. Colombine reached across to shake Lu Cia's hand on their side of the parapet. An agreement was reached. Below them, a boat moved off, as if it too had been waiting for us to finish.
In Florence, we each had our own cone. The dome rose above us, and Mea decided this was precisely the moment for a magnificent gaze into the distance. Her pistachio ice cream had other plans. “Your dignity is running down your hand,” Colombine pointed out. Lu Cia promptly produced a napkin, then noticed a pink dot on the tip of her own nose. Now Mea was laughing too. For a moment, we hovered between admiring the architecture and rescuing dessert. Dessert won. The dome was in no hurry; our three scoops clearly had an entirely different schedule.
In Rome, our boots had done quite enough walking. On the path opposite the old columns, Colombine stopped and opened the map. “Just this little bit.” Mea folded her arms. “That's what the previous map said.” Lu Cia closed her sketchbook and proposed an amendment to the Venetian agreement: each of us could choose one break, without appeals from the others. Mea voted for a chair, Colombine for a view, and Lu Cia for something sweet. We looked at one another for a moment. Then Colombine folded the map. For the first time that afternoon, we knew exactly what we were looking for—even without an arrow.
“A chair, a view, dessert. A clear brief at last.”
By Lake Garda, we finally sat at a little table facing the water. The mountains softened in the fading light, and a single bowl containing three flavours arrived between us. With three spoons. “This is suspiciously well organised,” Colombine admitted. Mea tasted the chocolate with the expression of an independent quality inspector. Lu Cia quietly nudged the bowl towards the centre. When one last spoonful remained, we both gestured for her to take it. “Voluntarily?” she checked. “Today, yes,” Mea said. “Tomorrow the agreement is up for negotiation again.”
“Let's save at least one excuse for tomorrow.”
From notebook to book
The Map with No Last Page
The world of Travel2City continues between the covers of a book. Discover The Map with No Last Page and more illustrated journeys.
