Sitting cross legged upon my exquisite divan, I glanced around the room.  Feeling the
luxurious, thick fabric against my flesh, my eyes fell upon my elaborate surroundings.
The heavy mahogany chest, brought from Morocco sat sternly in the far corner, grand
and contented to be the holder of the outlandish treasures within.  The oak dining table,
with its finely upholstered chairs stood imposingly upon the cherry stained floor, while
the exotic rug bought from the East covered the vast wall, displaying a kaleidoscope of
colours and shapes.  It was the most cherished entity in the apartment, undoubtedly the
focal point of the room.

Thinking back on the past twenty four years of my life I was astonished to discover how
dramatically things had changed.  When I was just an ordinary suburban girl, I
remembered dreaming of a home with sumptuous furnishings, myself constantly dressed
in elegant clothing, and my parents being prominent figures of high-society.  The reality
however was a life in complete contrast to this.  Coming from a struggling, working class
family in a less than average home in Melbourne, in a matter of years I had miraculously
found myself on the other side of the world, living in the refined city of Florence, Italy, as
a noticeable business figure.  It was obvious I had finally realised my dream that I had as
a little girl.

Moving to Florence was not a difficult decision to make considering I was fortunate
enough to be given the opportunity to study at the International University of Florence.
The cultural benefits were aplenty.  The chance to experience an entire different national
culture, learn a new language, and live in a city renown for it’s abundance in Renaissance
art and architecture proved too enticing for me to stay, so I retired from my life in
Melbourne with relative ease, to start afresh in the dazzling city of Florence.

Leaving family and friends behind at the time wasn’t as difficult as one would imagine.  I
dismissed my reluctance to leave friends with the exciting prospect of meeting new ones.
Family, I could not replace, however family is family.  They would always be there for
me if I were to return.  The only person I would miss, and find no suitable replacement
for was my prince.  After a wondrous eighteen months together I had left him behind in
Melbourne to pursue the life I had dreamt up before his arrival, a decision I thought was
wise at the time.  Although six years have past since then the emptiness I feel from our
separation encompasses my spirit endlessly, no matter how hard I try to forget, to move
on.

Apart from that  , the compromising of the old for the new was perhaps the best decision
I could have possibly made.  My new life has  allowed me to speak four entirely different
languages proficiently.  I was fluent in English and Greek upon my arrival, but now I
spoke mainly in Italian, and on the occasional business trip to Germany, German.  The
fashion benefits Florence brought with it were also a dream being realised.  Back in
Melbourne I never had the opportunity to dress in designer wear.  Other than the
exorbitant prices, the extravagance and outrageous nature of the clothing was unsuitable
for the modest streets of Melbourne.  Here I lived in designer labels.  Armani, Dolce e
Gabbana, Prada.  The Florentine art and architecture, and the cultured people of the city
itself is what I admire most.  The intricate designs of the buildings, the work of Great
artists like Michaelangelo and Da Vinci displayed for all to see.  Never did I reap such
refinement in Melbourne.

I stood up and stretched my body fully, before retiring to the deck.  As I sat on my hard
wooden chair, with the entire city of Florence and beyond, beneath me, I felt a great
feeling of contentment.  The feelings of abandonment and displeasure I had experienced
initially with the transition were now in the past.  Although it was arduous exchanging
my old way for the new I realised that all my new found happiness in my life and the
beauty of my current surroundings meant more than the emotive security of friends and
family for it had given me a personal sense of achievement.  As for the love I had felt for
my prince, that has never died, and still exists in the deepest corners of my memory but
the sense of detachment from it has allowed me to grow.  Making it on my own has given
me a tremendous sense of self worth, and a new feeling of acceptance.  A feeling I had
and would have never experienced before if it weren’t for the transition.