The weather, yes, again. But the Chiesa di S. Pietro proved to be full of surprises as well.
In the lore of European travel, the acronym “ABC” expresses a contemptible attitude toward the usual parade of churches visits arranged by tour groups. Understandable enough, in many cases.
More than most exterior architectures, that of S. Pietro has its Romanesque charms:
Yet once inside, the renovated interior could hardly keep pace. Except for the rare anomaly, old and new somewhere juxtaposed in an arresting contrast, mostly disappointing.
Until, suddenly, Rebecca and I come upon the same smile at the same moment, seeing these chairs at the beginning, beside the pew, and then this sign at the end, in explanation of a sort:
Only there was much more in between left to ponder, from the obvious, to the still somewhat mysterious:
A prayer and a Bible story, child’s play. But the itemizing of individual talents and interests, united under the banner of an “Orchestra,” such is the stuff that dream’s are made of.
