One sunny autumn day Francesca and I were walking through a narrow medieval street downstream from the Ponte Vecchio.
“Anarchy,” said Francesca, “I like it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look up there,” she said, pointing to the top floor of a medieval building in the center of Florence.
“I don’t see anything anarchical.”
“The shutters. They are turquoise.” Francesca pointed at a pair of small shutters on one window on the top floor where a noble family’s servants once lived.
Sure enough they were a light blue-green — different from every other shutter in Florence. This is absolutely illegal … Read More