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Still in Florence, I start my day with Michelangelo’s David — and despite trying to stay emotionally detached, I’m thoroughly impressed. He’s nearly 17 feet tall, beautifully sculpted, and yes, a lot of people are just quietly staring at his butt.
I climb to the top of the Florence Cathedral dome far too early for something that vertical, wander into an Irish pub featuring an optical illusion of a wall, and I get a call from the AI-powered luggage storage room — with an update that is less helpful than it is unsettling.
A mellow meander through Renaissance art, questionable architecture, and the slow unraveling of my trust in robot customer service. Sleep softly.
By Ryan Kolbe5
22 ratings
Still in Florence, I start my day with Michelangelo’s David — and despite trying to stay emotionally detached, I’m thoroughly impressed. He’s nearly 17 feet tall, beautifully sculpted, and yes, a lot of people are just quietly staring at his butt.
I climb to the top of the Florence Cathedral dome far too early for something that vertical, wander into an Irish pub featuring an optical illusion of a wall, and I get a call from the AI-powered luggage storage room — with an update that is less helpful than it is unsettling.
A mellow meander through Renaissance art, questionable architecture, and the slow unraveling of my trust in robot customer service. Sleep softly.