From the top of the Guinigi Tower hardly any roads are visible. Instead, all you can see are church towers and the haphazard pattern of terra cotta roofs jostling against each other, misshapen rectangles in an image that might have been a Klee-Cezanne collaboration. Against a wash of umber, peach and magnolia, a green tree-line defines the boundaries of the city; segregation of the elegant and the brash. Loving the old, you walk the walls as if in defiance of the new, your gaze ever inwards for that is where the romance and the past lay.
12th April 2017, 98 words
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