Numbing beauty

One of the odder email subscriptions that I receive (on a very irregular basis) is a newsletter on Florence doings. Yes, that would be Florence, Italy. I think it must be targeting expats because it is in English, and it speaks of things that would be of interest to a foreigner spending long periods of time there.

This morning, I read in it the following: “When he visited Florence, the French writer Stendhal, after a few days spent admiring the architectural and artistic wonders he encountered at every step, was stricken by a sort of blackout, a prostration brought on by the sight of such highly-concentrated beauty.”

I read this with a sort of early March longing to be overwhelmed by something so piercingly flawless that it would make me numb. It would be best if this would coincide with Spring Break so that my own prostration would not hinder any teaching effort. It is hard to find that kind of stunning visual perfection in a landscape that always looks dirty during this month, and a town that is more on the pleasant and attractive end of things rather than fetchingly stupefying. It is easier to be a Florentine in March than it is to be a Madisonian.