Feeling fortunate in the company of three fine gentlemen, I enjoyed a guided tour of the city. We walked from place to place, getting our bearings and taking in an overview of the the highlights...just a sample to whet our appetites.

The landmark sights came thick and fast in all directions: the impressive brick-domed Cathedral (Duomo), frosted in white, green and pink marble; a glimpse of the famous bronze doors of the octagonal Baptistery; craning our necks to scan the heights of Giotto's bell tower.

We cruised by the Piazza della Signoria, the "L" shaped square that embraces the Palazzo Vecchio. We admired the statues housed under the Loggia dei Lanzi, and Neptune's Fountain.

I noticed a plaque on the ground marking the spot where Fra Girolamo Savonarola was burned at the stake on May 23rd 1498. It struck me that this place is so thick with history, both memorialized and forgotten, that wherever you stand, you can't avoid stepping on it.

We headed south across the covered bridge called Ponte Vecchio to the rough-hewn brown stone facade of the Pitti Palace.

Stopping there, we rested on the sloped piazza, saying nothing. The afternoon sun hung low, golden light filtered by the fine mist in the air, lending a sense of timelessness to the horizon. I felt no great pull to go anywhere in particular, or do any specific thing. I was in Florence now; that was enough.