The woman in the Vatican cafeteria warned me I’d be disappointed by Florence. She’d already been there, beginning her Italian adventure in Venice. I was ending mine there, having flown into Rome a few days earlier.
But I wasn’t disappointed by Florence. How could I be? There was so much to marvel at, not the least of all was David. He stood at the end of the Grand Gallery in the Galleria dell’Accademia di Firenze, bathed in the light of the glass dome above him. David loomed over the throngs of gawkers in the gallery, and though there were (at least) a hundred people between us, it felt like it was the two of us.