Sometimes it surprised him just how quickly time passed and he would frequently catch himself remembering a face, a feeling or a situation with far too much clarity considering the time that had gone by.

He would also question why he continued to come back here to this city, Milan.

Certainly it was a beautiful city, of this there was no question. It had all the aesthetic qualities which in anyone's eyes would render it inviting, as tourists the world over would attest to but it always left him with an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach because it reminded him of what he no longer had. The city had never felt like it was his. It had never opened itself up to him and showed him its inner beauty and secrets, as so many places do, in order to hook visitors, capture their hearts and keep them coming back to feel that special affinity.

In the intervening 30-odd years, he'd been back many times but his feelings about the place had never changed, his passion for it hadn't grown, and the city's heart hadn't softened towards him at all.

His reason for returning was the same as it had always been. It was the same reason he had tried to settle here all those years before; the girl with the name which always reminded him of the city, as if the two entities were eternally intertwined. Indeed, they were for him. He could never think of one without the other.

He could still remember her features as she was then, far too well. Her sallow skin, the indent on her lip caused by her endearing habit of pressing her teeth into it whenever she listened intently. He still knew where every wrinkle lay on her face and how it felt to stroke her hair as it tumbled down to her shoulders.

He had to turn his thoughts away from her momentarily as they started to gather pace and detail and drag him back down into the empty pit that started in his stomach and seemed to take over his mind.

To bring him back to the present, he examined the city around him and its myriad features; the Castello Sforzesco, Sempione park, La Scala opera house, Piazza del Duomo, La Galleria and the multitude of Palazzos and villas which seemed to frame hand painted scenes of cafés populated by cultured and beautiful people.

It seemed the years had had no effect on the city or its inhabitants, time hadn't touched their faces, the streets they lived in or the walls they lived behind. He was acutely aware of the effect the intervening years had had on him, even more so because of the lack of change around him and the ease of familiarity this brought him.

He was a young man when he had first walked these familiar streets. A young man full of fire and passion, on a quest for adventure, for learning. What he found was a love that would last a lifetime.

By now he was thinking about a girl who when he last saw her, was a full 30 years younger than he was now. This thought left him feeling uneasy, almost guilty, so much so, he wasn't sure whether it was this guilt or the feeling of futility that left him with the stronger reason to try to forget her and finally give up on this wasted quest.

But giving up was something he just couldn't do. Just as staying away from this city was something he couldn't do. Despite his feelings about the place, it drew him back again and again. It took him a few years and a few journeys to realise that it was all just his way of staying close to her, keeping the memory of their time together alive in some macabre way. It was for the same reason that he still spoke Italian, still studied it, still practiced it. He didn't need to but it almost felt to him that if he used her language, he could revisit the conversations they once had. In his mind he also ran through conversations that were never had.