One spring evening in Lucca looking for the same dignity as gloomy 2011, but just a hint of the early sixth century, infinitely darker, years of war, death, death by plague, death starvation, death by water, death everywhere, except in mosaics and in the capitals, in the diptychs and signs of power, as always. And the holy miracle-workers listed by Pope Gregory the Great, one hope, stories of the past for a little 'confidence in the present and future, for the strength to get to tomorrow, in endless toil, and Lombard duces magistri militum, priests and gentlemen.
And for this surrenders the evening in San Frediano, to find unexpected and sudden a friend to read the text read countless times, to seek confirmation of the rake on the holy dreams, to find in the chronicles of lamb or courtly splendor of Cassiodorus or who knows where, in plots of the Wars of Procopius, the years of Frygianus, man of God, bishop of the church of Lucca. The G of San Frediano, which is a G C or so it seems, as in the diptych of Orestes, made and remade, accommodated in 530 ... Gennadius Frigianus as the capital and in rural, R with the line a bit 'in there. Letters narrow and saving, high, masters of writing and printing, to enhance the dazed faces of chubby consuls as their nomenclature that trovavan Totila front and Isaura, named dry, very hungriest, ready to take the bags for himself solid bring Empowerment contracts. The G
of San Frediano, just enough to find the scent of the sixth century, the years of Belisarius and Vitige, and Totila Narsete, Ranil and Funso and Valerianus. The important thing is to convince.
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