It’s a beautiful spring day in Florence. Windows wide open, sitting in the sun, coffee within reach. I’m working. Until I hear a sound. A trumpet? It sounds like a trumpet. I think to myself ‘someone must have picked up on a new hobby’ and continue with what I was doing. But the sound is getting closer. And closer. Until I see him. A little man with a shiny, copper trumpet. Walking down the street, playing it beautifully. In between tunes, he stops and shares a happy ‘buongiorno!’ with everyone who passes by. Just sharing a bit more happiness on this sunny day. The sound slowly fades while he continues his walk. I smile and return to my laptop, expecting to work for a few more hours.
Minutes later. A window of one of my neighbours down the street opens and a man yells “Scusa! Il tuo cane ha fatto la cacca!” (‘Excuse me! Your dog just shat!’). I can’t hear the answer, but my neighbour is clearly agitated. He asks the person if it is his/her dog. Apparently the answer isn’t satisfactory, because he gets louder and yells that he saw her dog shitting on the sidewalk. Then another window opens. His neighbour joins the fun: “I’m sorry, I also saw your dog doing it!”. A lot of mumbling between te neighbours, clearly annoyed, and then an evaluation: “We did a good job there. She cleaned it up.” Windows close and everything is back to normal. Just another Tuesday afternoon.