"Feel the Earth beneath your feet" she says,"The radiating heat of her presence,against our bare feet."
"And lined with dirt and pigeon shit." I add,matter-of-factly.
On a particularly hot day in October,we stood,isignificant beings under the the magnificent stone structure towering over us,in ways only four hundred year old monuments can.Skyscrapers could never compare.
There's something about religious places,we all agree.A sense of serenity,the tranquil vastness of it all-the silence that dwells in the bustle of the pilgrims,maybe.
It's the oldest part of the city,and once glamorous structures cluster us,yellowing like much loved old books.To this day,we identify them as eptiomes of beauty and immortal grace,the same way one would with Marylin Monroe or Audrey Hepburn.
Just the idea of them,so ravishing,too overwhelming to be real.Unreal,unfolding before our eyes,even.
There are other things,that have we awe-inspired and spellbound,like a 100 year old cuckoo clock that still functions perfectly.The flawless marble sculpture of a woman,under a veil made of stone.A veil,almost fluid and silky and melodious as her poise.
And the statue that embodies two bodies dwelling in one soul,poignant.To discover all these treasures forgotten in corners,far-off,is to rediscover ourselves,children with reconnected roots,new identities.
And what's scorched feet and blistered soles,for a day lent from History.
"And lined with dirt and pigeon shit." I add,matter-of-factly.
On a particularly hot day in October,we stood,isignificant beings under the the magnificent stone structure towering over us,in ways only four hundred year old monuments can.Skyscrapers could never compare.
There's something about religious places,we all agree.A sense of serenity,the tranquil vastness of it all-the silence that dwells in the bustle of the pilgrims,maybe.
It's the oldest part of the city,and once glamorous structures cluster us,yellowing like much loved old books.To this day,we identify them as eptiomes of beauty and immortal grace,the same way one would with Marylin Monroe or Audrey Hepburn.
Just the idea of them,so ravishing,too overwhelming to be real.Unreal,unfolding before our eyes,even.
There are other things,that have we awe-inspired and spellbound,like a 100 year old cuckoo clock that still functions perfectly.The flawless marble sculpture of a woman,under a veil made of stone.A veil,almost fluid and silky and melodious as her poise.
And the statue that embodies two bodies dwelling in one soul,poignant.To discover all these treasures forgotten in corners,far-off,is to rediscover ourselves,children with reconnected roots,new identities.
And what's scorched feet and blistered soles,for a day lent from History.
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