St. Mary of the Flower, the Duomo, in Florence, and a cherished dream.  Would she disappoint?

I arrived mid-evening, after a long days travel, with legs that needed to be stretched and a bubble of excitement inside.  Into the darkening streets, gay voices filling the air and a buzz of purely Italian sociability.  Waiting for that moment when, rounding a corner, there she was, shining like a beacon.  Beckoning me to come closer, in adoration, and gaze on her transcendent beauty.

Round and round her I walked, gazing up at every aspect of her beauty.  Dizzy with the wonder of it all and beaming like a child.

Arms spread wide, my eyes followed her majesty up to the heavens.  I did not want my bubble ever to burst.  Easing myself away, with many a backward glance, I tried to reassure myself that she was real.  Never could I conjure such a figment of imagination.

In the days to come I will be sharing with you some of the history, as well as the beauty, that is Florence.  Right now I’m clinging to the Indelible memory of that first night.  Thank you, Paula, for such a very apt prompt.