A medieval night
A Christian dìscussing it wìth a lion
The Wall Of Soles
Kay and a Medici cookie jar
The Art of the Street
Madonna
A medieval night
A Christian dìscussing it wìth a lion
The Wall Of Soles
Kay and a Medici cookie jar
The Art of the Street
Madonna
We have a room with a view.
We met two young women from South Dakota who were amazed that everyone was so nice to them. I explained the European Pretty Girl Rule and they seemed quite pleased.
That noise that’s always clattering away in the background is not the ghost of marching Roman soldiers. It’s the sound of legions of tourists hauling their rolling suitcases over the cobblestones.
Given the number of leather coats, jackets, wallets, satchels, belts, purses and bags I’ve seen I don’t imagine there is one cow left, still on the hoof, in the entire country.
Chianti is the drink of choice and what these people don’t know about coffee doesn’t matter.
The food is so good I’m pretty sure the vegetables volunteer to be eaten.
Marina Abramovic cuts art with a knife — a big in-your-face butcher’s knife.
And finally:
Tourists are the new Medici — they run this town. But one of these days the local folk are going to get pissed off and double the prices. The thing is everything is so cool – we would all pay.
Michealango’s David is a badass. Put that kid in a leather jacket and he’s the guy you really don’t want your daughter to bring home for the weekend. And that’s the magic of Michealango. He didn’t just phone it in. There are tons of Davids out there — beautiful shepherd boy, God’s chosen warrior, Biblical king — but only one sits on top that pantheon — Michealango’s.
Look at his face! Look at the rock in his hand! Look at the way he’s standing! That’s clearly, “Okay, G! You want some of this!”