Florence on Film.

A walk through memory lane: Florence.

This will be a three part series about my time in Italy. And since I love a good alliteration, we are beginning my film journey in Florence.

It is June of 2024. After being on crutches for two months from an ankle sprain, I was learning how to walk again. At five foot three and a half inches tall, I am somehow a fast walker. New York instilled that in me. And this was the slowest I was moving in a long while. Having to stop and take breaks, going into cafes and asking for a bag of ice for my ankle, it was a truly humbling experience. But much like anything else, it taught me the art of slowing down. It was at that time I fully began to grasp how little I actively want to rush anything in my life, constantly in the pursuit of the next location instead of being present. I suppose pain is a rite of passage in any context.

We landed in Vienna on June 14th, personally, I wanted to have our layover from Los Angeles in Vienna to be on June 16th, the infamous day in the “Before Sunrise” trilogy. But fate had other plans.

We were going to Italy for a wedding. One of my dearest friends who I have known since I was eighteen was finally marrying her longtime boyfriend (I love their story, I will undoubtedly get more into it in Vol. III: Lucca (stay tuned)) and the purpose of our pilgrimage was love. Well, to witness the next chapter of a love story. But along the way we decided to make the most of our time by hitting various parts of Tuscany. And up first was Florence.

I feel so blessed that the AB&B that we chose was right beside the Ponte Vecchio for now whenever I see others photos of that iconic bridge, I can see the window that I once so longingly looked out of.

Our view.

Nine months before, I was in France where I had the worst insomnia of my life. So I came prepared with traveltonin and passed out. We woke up past our allotted appointment hour for the Uffizi Gallery, which we could see from outside of our AirB&B window, across the Arno river. My travel companion panicking, and I just kept saying, “Its going to be fine. It's all going to work out!” Their instinct is always preparing for the worst whereas mine is preparing for the best. Contradiction is often complimentary.

They also let us in without a hitch.

It has become an unintentional series of mine, observing fellow observers at museums. I just love documenting how people experience art, and in the process they can become it themselves. Plus, I really do feel so blessed that my heels have echoed the halls of so many legendary art galleries, even though this time I was in running shoes.

Perhaps naively, but I did not expect Florence to be as overcrowded as it was. My favorite times to go out were late at night or early morning when it felt as if we had the city to ourselves.

No one really mentions the inside of the Duomo

The man emerging from the curtaiin behind me here, you can actually see his hand, genuintely gave me fright.

If you know me, then you know first of the roll shots have a very special place in my heart.

We woke up thinking that we wanted to go see David. But upon looking at the line it was an immediate “Nope!” So we kept walking where we found the quaintest botanical garden.

The farther we strayed from the city center, the more it felt like the real city. Where the locals go. And so we found a park to rest my ankle for a bit…

My travel companion noted that I am like Lilo in “Lilo and Stitch” taking photos of the elderly. I find them to be fascinating.

Across from where we were eating gelato, the other gelato shop across the alley was playing the theme song from “La La Land” (nothing like flying 6,199 miles to hear the soundtrack of hometown, I guess). And next door was a bookstore, connected to a theater (a different theater). If you haven’t already noticed, I love bookstores and what was once one of my favorite books was outside. “Call Me By Your Name” by Andre Aciman (I will not comment on that horrendous money grabbing sequel). For if you know me, then you know I have a habit of giving men books, and many moons ago I ran into someone underneath a “La La Land” filming location at Griffith Park. We had a private joke about that book so I wrote him a note and left it for him. Shortly after this, I slightly regretted this decision for it was a favorite book of mine after all. What I love about books is the relatability and the evolution they possess, I used to reread that book all the time. Now I find no relatability. He has now owned that book longer than I did, I would like to believe there was something within those pages that he needed. A hope I hold for each of the men who own books that were once mine.

Shot on Kodak’s Porra 200, which felt very apropos

Well, thank you, once again, for taking a walk down memory lane with me. Hopefully, it wasn’t as physically taxing as it was for me, at the time. My next article will be about my time in Cinque Terre and Pisa…

Most Ardently,

B