Italy is a place of strong
emotion and abstract thoughts. While we were hearing the place’s history and
touring the archaic space filled with modern oddities—places that either stick out
like proverbial sore thumbs or the spots inhabiting places that were there
before their business and will be their long after they’re gone—words like “love,”
“anger,” and “passion” came up all across the board.
When I walked through the Cattedrale di Santa
Maria Assunta and heard the bels ring for the morning mass, I felt
so shocked by overwhelming emotion that I was struck deaf and dumb for some
minutes—which would explain why I seemed to walk aimlessly for agood bit of
time. The grandeur of the place—ranging from the precious stones and metals
used to adorn icons and statues and the mosaics, to the marble work, and the
original letter of Saint Francis—made me feel happy. That’s all I could do was
feel. I told Tyler that I was happy that I was—for once—not in a place that is
genuine in it’s awe-inspiring imagery and not post-modern and ironic or simply
kitschy beyond the point of melodrama.
In short, I am enjoying this place alot so far
and I plan to gush and wax poetic more as the weeks pass by.
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