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My feet are mangled. Mangled I tell you. This morning I wrote a piece using it as a metaphor, but it was stupendously self indulgent, beyond the works of Led Zeppelin and well into the calibre of Bob Dylan. I shall spare you all, but mangled feet.

I am truly back in the land of church bells. Lucca has been pleasant, rewarding us for having a longer than strictly necessary period here by revealing it charms after a couple of days. Initially it was less than I had hoped for; its walls seeming a paler version of Assisi and its interior a paler version of Padova, including a paler orto bitanico, but while it has has no new architectural elements (except a tower with trees on the roof), the culture is what has made the experience. This is partially due to my grasp of the language being broader than I had expected, with a larger than anticipated vocabulary being at my ready disposal. It is also partially due to the city having a genuinely impressive golden son: Giacomo Antonio Domenico Michele Secondo Maria Puccini, who penned Madame Butterfly and many others. There is currently a fine exhibition on his life and links to Lucca that Matt and I attended. The Tuscan food has also been exceptional (the olives especially have been sublimely balanced), and I anticipate more fine dining in Florence in the coming days.

This is a story whose details are best told in pictures, so I direct you to the gallery.

Comments

paulfraser
Aug. 27th, 2008 05:10 am (UTC)
Largely just the heroic poses of renaissance art. My left hand is doing the touching god bit from the Sistine Chapel. It is also reminiscent of paintings and statues of captains standing on the bow of their ship as it is hauled onto undiscovered land. The main element is the photo being shot from below.

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