Story Dust and Wanderlust.

Halloween is just around the corner, so, reader, let's talk about blood and gore.                                                                It was a Friday night and I was standing on haunted ground. The bodies of the infants that had died shortly after birth were buried on this ground instead of a cemetery because they weren't cleansed of their original sin through the sacrament of baptism. But of course I'm referring to something that was done back in the Middle Ages. Now, however, a gorgeous little square that is home to a small 11th century church called Santi Apostoli stands over it. The little gorgeous square's name is Piazza del Limbo, named after the dead chi...

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 ...