Black Waters and Hot Glass

We all have a place in the world that hasn’t been home but we wish it was. What is it about Italy that allures so many of us? Is it because she is sinking into the sea under the weight of all her beauty? Is it that the people sing every time they speak? Or is it that it’s a pictured story book that has no human end?

I remember my first night in Florence like it was the first time I opened my eyes. On a bridge over the Arno I was struck silent by the contrast between the inky black water and the deep gold of the opulent buildings touching its sides. Black and gold. A visual metaphor for the dark hearts of the merchants and bankers and fashion houses who’ve drunk the city’s molten veins ever since the Medici captured her glittering soul.