Basilika San Lorenzo (Travel Writing Experiment)

The stone my butt rests on is cold.

Who else has sat on this stone?

I am looking out at the clementine tree that is encircled by finely shaven rows of green bush. Reflections of the sun warm the oranges, making them seem to pop out shadow of the tree branches.

The arches of the surrounding building are the color of beach sand, and are held up by intricate gray pillars. A towering coffee colored building protrudes itself from above the arches, hovering over the orange tree as if to protect it Protect it from too much sun, too much rain? Bow and arrows, nuclear bombs, whatever it may be.

The buildings windows are barred, with cement filling the center , like holocaust barracks I learned about in Genocide class. The woman sat up in her room of 4 concrete walls, with nothing but a barred window that allowed her to peek out into what I am seeing as the garden square. She notices her mother is being brought in through the doors, but she must remain silent, hands wrapped around the bars in a tight grasp, her eyes yearning.

I imagine San Lorenzo leaning out of this window thousands of years ago, gazing upon his clementine tree, the garden filled with woman picking grapes and cheese from platters and throwing them into each others mouths, bathing in wine and sunlight. Draped in white cloth ( I also imagine the Greeks and Egyptians to do the same for some reason.) Lorenzo breathes in the fresh Firenze air as the birds chirp and sing around him, maybe pluck a clementine off the tree for him and bring it to him in their blue wings.

The ground is made up of large stones, like many of the streets in Florence. Green plants peeking out from between the stones, the smell of burgers floats by with a group of tourists, but I imagine the smell of the fresh air instead, prickling my face with a chill, standing on the balcony above the arches as Lorenzo did. A woman walks around the garden square making sure no ones feet are on the stone wall.

I smirk as a girl in my class is scolded for resting her foot on the wall. And then my class departs.

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