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Florence is a masterpiece
from the bristles of the artist’s brush
each tower and turret perfectly placed
the canvas mapped-out by a master
each color bold and brazen
as if it was dreamt up in the mind
and brought to life
only to be set behind glass
framed up on the wall
a prized possession

Naples is the artist’s palette
where the colors don’t have to stay between the lines
where every wall is a chaotic dance of laundry and graffiti
and balconies full of children and mothers and dogs and nonni

each brilliant color blending into the next, spilling off the edges
swirling and transforming under the wild brush strokes
that sucked away the brilliance, instead of creating it
– because this isn’t a canvas
it’s only a means to an end

but the anarchy is beautiful
and full of love and purity and passion
just a blur of colors and inspiration

colliding and swirling instead of settling into place
drying and cracking in a rainbow of life being lived
and instead of cleaned off before the next blank canvas,
the artist just slathers on new layers on top of the old
and everything is even more beautiful in the disaster
instead of perfect in the fairytale

and I want to frame it
even more than the masterpiece


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