Finding Salvation in Florence's Heart.

No matter how much I loved being in Italy, every day was not filled with gelato, and skipping down cobblestone streets.

No, I wasn't alone, or homesick, or miserable.

But more than once, I found myself reciting a quiet litany of "just breathe's."

Having grown up in a catholic environment, I have a stubborn habit of seeking comfort in a church or a cemetery. (Did you read my post about finding inspiration in a graveyard? You didn't? You should.)  And lucky for me, Florence has an abundance of them!

Living a block away from the Duomo had its perks. I passed it every single day, on my way to class and on my way back; even if I went grocery shopping, or decided to just walk around, it was there. People are not kidding when they say that the Duomo is literally in the heart of the city. Every road, every street somehow led to it. For the first couple of months, I used it as navigation to figure out where I was going and how I was going to get there.

The Duomo is eternal. It embodies the city of Florence, the values and cultures captured in those paintings and frescos for all eternity.

But the Duomo became more than just a means of navigation and admiration for me.

Santa Maria del Fiore became my sanctuary for solace.

There were times when I felt nothing but the sting of missing home. When I say home, I don't mean India or the US; I mean the feeling of belonging.

No, I wasn't swept up by culture shock.

Yes, Florence had welcomed me with open arms.

Yes, I, almost immediately, adapted and adjusted.

I had made this tiny ancient city my home, and I dreaded the day I would have to leave it behind.

But at times, I felt lost and torn down. Torn down by the pressure of society and the likes; torn down by the need to please people in my life despite the fact that they were thousands of miles away; torn down by the need to fit in.

I was torn down by the need and the desperate desire to just live.

The Duomo, in these moments, became my reassurance, despite the bustle and mayhem of the swarming tourists. Sitting in the basilica's pews, I tried to find the comfort one only finds in a place of divinity.

I'm not overly religious, but there's a different kind of calm that emits from the union of God and art.

Over the course of four months, I saw the Duomo through different lenses. I saw it at different times, going through different seasons; on a hot summer's day, on a rainy autumn morning, on a cold wintry night. You'd think I would get used to the sight. But somehow, every single time, it grew more and more majestic.

And somehow, every single time, it became my salvation.