The magic (or the curse) of Christmas has also reached Florence. In daylight, things change their appearance, so I have always been more attracted to night lights. At night, Florence now exhibits its Christmas wrapping, with the discreet aristocratic allure that characterizes the city so much. Seduced and abandoned, that’s how I feel. But the streets of Florence console me and heal my battered self-esteem so that I can reach the end of the year with some dignity.…
Leonardo da Vinci said: “Just as a well-used day produces a sweet dream, a well-used life produces a sweet death.” Death and life are two sides of the same coin. We fear death as children fear the darkness. But in fact, one should fear life more than death. What happens after death has been the great “incognitum” of humanity since its foundation. Death makes us reflect on life’s value.…
As I arrived in Berlin, I remember being fascinated by its wide sidewalks, streets and avenues. I sense the opposite in Florence, where a car hardly fits in its streets and maximum two people can meet on the sidewalks. In Berlin, I might just longed for distance. Now I search for proximity. Closeness. They say that Berlin is a cosmopolitan city, but in Florence I hear everyday languages that I could never identify. Florence windows are not double-glazed. Not so isolated like those in Berlin. I get up sometimes at night to check that mine are not open …The city enters my room as if I really lived in the street. And I do not care, because I know all of these little bits, together, are called life.
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There is always someone at any time of the day pulling a suitcase in Florence. I do not know what they carry inside, but what is rarely missing is a sex dating app in their ‘digital luggage.’ Transit, data roaming, digital nomads and ‘aeroplane mode’ on. Between heaven and hell. It is the social philosopher Zygmunt Bauman‘s immediacy and the disconcerting desire of wanting to live it all. Liquid loves, gaseous encounters and sparkling lives. The profiles named ‘Visiting’ multiply in the flirting apps. Sex express and the odd souvenir, which commonly becomes a shag with a local. Fuck’n’go!…
During the spring and summer evenings, when the Arno River runs low, Ponte alla Carraia grants one of the most picturesque sights of Florence. An isle in the middle of the river called Pescaia di Santa Rosa — between Ponte Amerigo Vespucci and Ponte alla Carraia — stands as a sort of no man’s land and becomes the spot where young people get together for a beer, a chat or share a joint. The water drop reaches three meters, thus the force of the current is considerable. However, whereas the bridge helps to maintain the natural flow of the river, the area close to Oltrarno remains dry and passable. Moreover, here the town flourishes against the light, a top scene for those in love with melancholic sunsets in Florence.…
Se qualcuno mi dice ‘Firenze’ la prima cosa che mi viene in mente è fuggire via. Firenze, a volte, io la guardo e mi sembra diventata un luogo comune, un cliché inventato per far contenti i turisti. Firenze per la nave da crociera è il percorso di due ore, per gli amanti clandestini è la città di un fine-settimana, per le famiglie sono i musei delle vacanze di Pasqua, per le gite scolastiche è il capitolo sul Rinascimento, per gli animi malinconici è lo struggimento della sindrome di Stendhal. Io, da questa Firenze, ho continuamente voglia di scappare e forse mi piace proprio perché, poi, quando sono fuggita via dai luoghi comuni, è così bello aver nostalgia di questa città! Firenze, per chi ha voglia di scappare, ha molte vie di fuga: per alcune ci vuole un mezzo di trasporto, per altre, invece, basta un paio di scarpe comode.
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Ho due città: una del cuore e una dell’anima. Cagliari è la mia città del cuore, mentre Firenze è quella dell’anima. A Firenze vivo da quando avevo 19 anni, ma non pensavo che mi sarei trattenuta a viverci, ma è successo. Piano piano «ci siamo scelte» ed è diventata l’unica città dove avrei potuto vivere per poter fare il mio lavoro, che mi consente di avere tante relazioni e un buon «know how». Mi piace la sua dimensione internazionale, ma anche la piccola dimensione e l’incanto che provo ogni volta che ancora dopo 33 anni riesce a suscitarmi.…
Florence is a city that kills through strong emotions. There is no need to be accompanied, it is enough with ourselves and our senses. As Singer — the protagonist of the novel The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers —, when I wander anonymously among the whole crowd during hours through the streets of the city, it always seems that I am the only lonely person. However, it is not adequate to attribute to lonely souls the sorrow of an unhappy life. As I see, Florence is, above all, a destination for couples or groups; few people travel alone. It is the human being’s lifeguard against his own inner isolation.…
I feel often the captivating force of Florence acting as a magnetic power. And yet, what we know about places comes mainly by sharing certain time and space in them. Florence is there, the person appears, but the person leaves. Florence continues. The place transforms the human and the person alters the place. Thus, José Saramago once wrote: «I do not remember having ever read about the reasons that lead us to love one city more than any other (…). I believe that the love for a city is made of tiny things, of intangible reasons, perhaps a street, a fountain, or even a shadow. In the interior of the city of us all, the small city where each of us really lives. We physically inhabit a space, but above all, sentimentally, we inhabit a memory.»…
Meeting a foreign resident in Florence makes me wonder: “What brought him here?” (love, work, despair, art heritage, studies, food, wine, people, indecision), what moved him to stay here, what do I have in common with this person (at first and apparently quite a lot, and sometimes, in reality, nothing). However, what differentiates us, I sure know. It is usually, with natural exceptions, the routine. My discontinuous / intermittent stays in Florence let me enjoy the city with a renewed intensity each time. Such joy, I am afraid, might become ruined when choosing a permanent residence.
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