Florence in Black and White – Weekly Travel Photo & Product Review

Holding my breath I closed my eyes. Around me the auditory press of a vibrant Italian city roared about its daily business. Filtering through the array of sounds I sorted out the thread I was looking for – a rhythmic sound. An organic sound. The sound of boat paddles slicing smoothly into the currents of the river, extricating itself, and slowly dripping droplets of water in its wake. It was the subtle splash of a boat advancing against the current and immediately triggered memories of my childhood. Of times spent in Mexico in a small inflatable kayak paddling gracelessly against coastal currents and a mild wind. So much was different and yet so much was similar. The sleek suggestion of movement, the groan of the oar, and the sound of the boat cutting through the water.