David.

I don't plan on blogging every day, but something should be said for the things I experienced today. Problem is, I already have a hard time explaining Florence's magnificence to myself. I keep saying, "Wow this place is amazing." "Amazing" is insufficient, and a part of me thinks no words, no pictures, nothing but actually being here could explain Florence.

I sat at a restaurant, tearing into my pizza while the humidity and heat kept it warm, and then music started to play. I have found that a lot of restaurants have no music playing, so the sudden notes of splendor perked up my ears like a deer when it hears the slightest rustle in the brush. I turn my head and see a smiley old man stringing together squeaky notes on his accordion. It was as if I was in a movie. You could see the bliss on his face permeate into his music. Contagious. Beautiful. A moment that can't really be created, but must be so candid and unexpected so as to make you sit in awe.

This simple pleasure of hearing one note meld into another while he grinned in joy made me want to freeze the moment. It was priceless.

Later on my friends and I wandered around Florence looking for the Accademia which held Michelangelo's "David." We walked and walked, had some gelato, then kept walking. Usually the first time you venture out to look for some museum or landmark you always end up getting lost and walking in multiple circles. But, whilst getting lost we found a gallery of modern art by students from an art school in Florence. It wasn't a big place, but every piece of art was so unique that it felt as if I was looking at each piece forever. It took me a while to get back to the exit.

Finally, after my feet were barking and sore and my left arm numb from the weight of my bag, we had finally found David. It is quite funny because we talk about David in such a casual way that if you were behind us listening to our conversation you'd think it was just another one of our friends. The Accademia not only held "David," but also works by many other artists such as Lorenzo Bartolini (one of my new favorites). Upon seeing David and all the tourists surrounding him, snapping nude photos of his body, I studied the grandeur size of him and all the minute curls in his hair and the long veins on his neck and arms. I couldn't believe it. It felt like a joke, a Disney ride made of plaster and shit. None of the art seems real. From antiquity on, not only David, but paintings hang on the walls staring back at you still in pristine condition. How? How did we get so lucky as to preserve these great works? I don't know. It is always hard for me to understand that it is all real. Really sculpted by Michelangelo. It just baffles my mind. Needless to say it was, for lack of a better word, amazing.