Florence, January 22nd, 2010

Today, I wake up in Florence, the bright sunshine flooding in through our third story hotel room. I walk out into the street, the cold air whips against my ears, the buildings dark in shadows. Doors open, garages pull up, shops readying for a day of business. Few vespas are out, but they will soon flock the streets like pidgeons in a piazza, whining, turning, twisting. I walk to the Duomo; it is a brisk walk. The bells of the Duomo clang noisily, their sound echoing through the streets, vibrating, and bouncing along . As I turn the corner, I see the Duomo, its massive dome glowing an intense reddish orange against a water color blue sky. Its as if it was lit afire, only to smolder in the cold day. The sides of the Duomo stand magnificent shades of white, pink, and green; its boasts its magnificence, imploring you to find a flaw, to circumvent entirely around it, only to find it perfect.

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