A Time of Transition

About a week and a half ago now I toured a theatre.  It's name was the Pergola and it was beautiful.  It had the foundations of a church started far before the Renaissance and had a harmonious fusion of old theatre style with a new theatre play bill.  It felt like going home, being back in that theatre.  It felt comfortable.  There were even crews working to construct the set for their play A Doll's House.

They even had a contraption that could raise the floor level of the main theatre and bring it to the same height as the stage.

Unfortunately it's no longer in use, being completely damaged in the 1966 flood.  All of this was so fascinating to me.  It excited me for London.  I couldn't wait for the time to come when I would leave the silly Renaissance art behind and enter the world of Shakespeare.

But now the time has come to leave and I'm afraid it's extremely more difficult than I thought it would have been.  Honestly, how can I stand to leave a view like this:

This is a view of Italy that can be seen from the villa of the Capezzana family.  They just happen to be at Count and Countess status and own one of the best vineyards in all of Tuscany.  They took us on a private tour and we had a wine tasting afterwards, complete with some little snacks.  It was a perfectly Italian thing to do.

I know I have to move on and when the time comes I will.  In the meantime, though, I may drag my feet a little everywhere I venture in order to soak up as much of the city as I can before I go.