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This story develops in Firenze.

It was the second time I went and nothing had changed. The scents intoxicated me, the bustle of Ponte Vecchio and it’s little streets reminded me of a not distant past.

It was lunch time and I needed change, so I headed to a small fish market. There I met Marcello, a nice young man who kindly took out his small coin bag and changed my bill with coins. Before I walked out he told me a phrase that kept me thinking, “L’amore brilla negli occhi del mio sguardo e torna gentile quando la guarda: ovunque lei passi, ogni uomo si volta per guardarla e, a chi la vede, trema l’anima e si innamora” (“Love shines in the eyes of my lover, and turns gentile when she looks: where it passes, every man turns after watching her and who sees trembles the soul in love”)

I had lunch and continued watching closely every architectonic detail, its cathedral, the marble details, its streets, its people, its gestures… When I arrived at the hotel I looked for the phrase of that fisherman who had let me tasting the city in a different way. I saw it was from Dante Alighieri, a italian poet, writer and politician of the XIII century. Is that poet all romantic and dramatic Italian people once recite.

The cathedral’s marble and my encounter with Marcello made me dream about something; they made me dream about a bag, a small coin bag in which all romantic thoughts that Italian men give can be stored.



For everything, more and more.



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