“Victims, victors, vermin;
“Victims, victors, vermin;captured one and all, immortally in paint”
captured one and all, immortally in paint”The Piazza della Signoria had remained a vacant wasteland, abandoned by those who adored it, feared by those who abhorred it, as desolate as the ruins on the surrounding hillside.
But not anymore.
The artistic endeavor begun on the north wall, or the wall of the Dogana, brought them back out, enticed them, at first, with the hammering and the clamoring of a scaffold under construction. Then, the man who climbed it, none other than Sandro Botticelli, at last cajoled those few still reluctant out of their homes.
DoganaNow the city hummed with talk of it, on every street corner, in every tavern and home, from the low to the lofty. The popolo came out i
