‘Flight mode’ in Florence: sex dating apps, endless queues at Uffizi, panino at Antico Vinaio and some tacky souvenirs

‘Flight mode’ in Florence: sex dating apps, endless queues at Uffizi, panino at Antico Vinaio and some tacky souvenirs

PHOTOS & SPANISH VERSION BELOW

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!

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Florence, in the city of David

Florence, in the city of David

PHOTOS & SPANISH VERSION BELOW

The soul of David spreads throughout Florence as a ubiquitous and sheltering presence. All the cities have their symbol: the Statue of Liberty, the musicians of Bremen, the Berlin bear, the Eiffel Tower, the cock of Barcelos, the Christ of Corcovado, the Big Ben … The flower of the lily shares with the David the leadership of popularity in the city of the Renaissance.…

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Touched for the very first time in Florence

Touched for the very first time in Florence

PHOTOS & SPANISH VERSION BELOW

My first stay in Florence was in piazza del Mercato Nuovo at the end of September 2008. I recall how lost I felt then, trying to find the hotel with a map in my hands. I still do not know the name of the streets and alleys, but today I could certainly move around the city with my eyes closed. I remember one particular night when, disappointed by a date, I drank a whole bottle of limoncello (yes, I’m that kind of person) that I acquired in Pisa. The following morning, I was stroke by terrible news: my friend and artist Cocó Ciëlo had been murdered in Madrid. That was the first time I walked to piazzale di Michelangelo. I had a beer or two there and cried while contemplating this majestic town. Where you led me, Florence, that fateful night? All I could feel was irrational disgust, as the city had become a carrier of bad news to me. But we later reconciled. And, as in the most intense and passionate stories in literature, we have lived since many ruptures and reunions.…

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