17 Dec 2016
It was easy enough to tell that I was approaching the top of the tower at the Florence Duomo. I didn’t actually know, but the continual narrowing of the stairwell suggested it was. This set of stairs, built in a time when health and safety didn’t exist, had become extremely narrow, extremely steep, and with an extremely tight spiral to it. Respect to the heavily robed, ageing employee of yester-century who would have had to make this trek regularly.
The reward was worthwhile. It was late in the day during the final stretch of summer. The typically warm and orange Tuscan sun was waning low in the sky and the familiar haze was taking shape.
Up until this point, my world in Florence seemed small. I’d arrived by train a few days ago into the old city centre, walked one block over from the station to my accomodation, and then spent my time exploring this area. But from the top of the tower, I could appreciate the density, the expanse of off-white walls and red roofs, and how far Florence extends outside of the flagship area around the Duomo.