For centuries the world has been coming to Florence to see the world, the art and architecture of that grandiose age the Renaissance, for that is human greatness. From Mark Twain to me and the millions of modern tourists, Florence is a dream location, a representative of the magnificence of Europe. Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, the Medici, and Giotto – they were all here. And so am I.
But it’s different than I thought. The place is frozen in time; grand and ancient but overly complacent with itself. There is little desire for improvement. The city is also overrun with tourists. If you remove them what is left of the city but shopkeepers and drunken youths?
Perhaps it’s better that Florence and Europe remain a dream.
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The air is sweet sweet sweet as spring and we stand licking gelato on the stone street watching the children on the plumed carousel go round and round and hearing the karaoke singers sing lady gaga and watching the people endless people stream by by by
