In Cortona the stone houses climb toward the fortress, and at blue hour every window below you lights up, one kitchen at a time.
Our hour there
We had planned it badly. I wanted the fortress at blue hour, and you read the sign out loud: it closes before dark. So we came down past the mosaics with gold still on the stones and sat on the terrace of our room instead, a lantern between us, your book open on the same page for twenty minutes. The roofs went from orange to grey to something like ink. Swallows first, then a dog barking somewhere below, then one window, then a hundred. The wine tasted of a cool cellar. You laughed because I kept saying look, as if you weren't. We were together. I forget the rest.
You two can expect the light to go soft about twenty-five to forty minutes after sunset, which in mid-September means roughly a quarter to eight until a quarter past. It is still warm enough to sit out, and the town is quieter than in summer. Stone houses stack up the hill toward the Medici fortress, and the glow comes from ordinary windows, people cooking, people talking. Your own room light warms the wall behind you.
One honest thing: the rooms are non-smoking, so check the balcony rules before you light anything. And see the fortress at golden hour, not after; in September it closes at seven.
♡ We played first-lit-window, pointing across the roofs like spotters, and you won every round by claiming the one in our own room.