Black Waters and Hot Glass

Do we all have a place in the world that wasn’t home though we wish it was? What is it about Italy that allures so many of us? Is it because she sinks into the waves under the weight of all her beauty? Is it that the pictures in her storybook know no human end? Is it from the people that sing every time they speak?

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