As we get our tour folders and pay the requisite fee, I am reminded of the first time I heard Handel's Messiah . It occurred to me then that, for the duration of the oratorio, even an atheist must find it difficult to dismiss the idea of a divine mover, a cosmic creator. The composition is so powerful, the flow of emotions so intense, and the melodies so utterly exquisite, there has to be a deity worthy of so much inspiration. I feel this same sense now as we embark on our wanderings among so many spiritual works. My romanticism is in high gear and no amount of pragmatism or cynicism has even a remote chance of making an impression.
Art is transcendent and infinitely alluring.
She gestures to the two Roman boys we met yesterday, as though she has planted them there for me to discover at this specific point. Not even my flourishing romanticism helps me make the connection. So we begin the tour with our two mirror images, Ricci and Franco. They are Romans, students, they tell us, although Ellen immediately rolls her eyes, doubting the veracity of this part of their introductions. I am familiar with the practice by now of European men introducing themselves as students when they are flirting with American girls.