A visit to Italy may involve confronting crowds while palazzo hopping. Paradoxically it may also be a cure to visual clutter. Rachel Cusk wrote in her travel diary, The Last Supper (Picador, 2009):
“In the novels I read, people were forever disappearing off to Italy at a moment’s notice, to wait out unpropitious seasons of life in warm cultured surroundings. It was a cure for everything: love, disappointment, stupidity, strange vaporous maladies of the lungs. And for disenchantment, too, perhaps; for claustrophobia, and boredom; and for a hunger that seemed to gnaw at the very ligaments of my soul, whose cause was as hidden from me as were the means of its satisfaction.”
Last year I joined a friend in “disappearing off” to Rome to walk, not run; observe, not exhaust. And have a good cup of coffee that traveled to us lid-on, ensuring it retained its perfect temperature.
Here, some of what we saw, an experiment in sharing more images than words.
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