People said not to go, that it wasn’t worth it. Because, you know, too many people, nothing to see. But, you know…people.
The chapel is dark and cool and gilded; the air is laced with the smoke of incense. The architecture in the Baptistry is such that the building itself functions as a musical instrument, like the pedals on a piano. Every half hour, one of the guards sings. One note after another until she is harmonizing over and over again with herself, a chorus of one.
The famous tower leans, yes, and climbing, you lean, too, into the Tuscan green hillside and the soft Italian sky, into that bright faraway blue that you thought you already knew so well.