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In Defence of Looking Like a Knob
Somewhere between trying to live in Italy in 2023 and now, street photography crept its way into my life. Not dramatically. Not in a “this is my new personality” kind of way. No sudden urge to wear black and sigh a lot. Just a quiet, bubbling curiosity that showed up whenever I noticed cultures colliding in the same space.
Angela Fowler
Jan 203 min read


The Morning Florence Flirted With Snow
The light rain eventually surrendered, morphing into cascading white flurries that looked like Maldon sea salt flakes drifting through the air. My soul filled instantly. I’ve only experienced snow twice in my life, so any chance to witness it again sends me into a state of unfiltered joy.
The snow, however, never committed. Unlike other parts of Tuscany, it melted the moment it touched the ground, dissolving into dark stone and damp pavement as if it had second thoughts.
Angela Fowler
Jan 73 min read


Florence at Christmas: Quiet Moments & Magic
Yesterday afternoon slipped quietly into evening as I walked through Florence’s historic centre, finishing the last of my Christmas shopping. The light softened, the sky dimmed, and for the first time in months the city felt like it was exhaling. Not collapsing into silence, but easing its shoulders down after holding tension for too long.
The American students had gone home, their laughter and hurried footsteps replaced by something slower, lower, more familiar.
Angela Fowler
Dec 20, 20252 min read


90 Days In & Finding My Pace
I’ve been back in Florence for barely a breath - three months, technically - and already the city has settled around me like a favourite sweater that still carries a hint of whoever wore it last. When I first stepped into my apartment, I felt like I’d broken into someone else’s life. Everything was “fine,” in that vague, furnished-rental way: neutral décor carefully chosen to offend no one, a rug that looked like it had witnessed a small emotional crisis, and couch covers tha
Angela Fowler
Dec 3, 20255 min read


Pilgrims, Pastries, and People-Watching
Two weeks back in Florence, and already the hills were calling. What began with laundry and a pastry-fuelled bin run quickly turned into an accidental pilgrimage through Assisi's sun-washed streets. Along the way: beer at McDonald's, unsolicited stair workouts, divine views, and the quiet unraveling of something sacred.
Angela Fowler
Nov 7, 20255 min read
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