Story: Spirits of the Nuovo Sacristy

Despite the fact that even at the time I was so sure of it, to this day I am shocked that the memory has remained with me. More surprisingly, that it is one of the most vivid and easy to recall memories from my four and half months living in Florence. Living only two blocks down from San Lorenzo, I walked by the former cathedral every day to get to the central part of the city.

I remember one morning as I was passing by the New Sacristy, the famous Michelangelo and Medici collaboration, I saw a small, plastic cup caught in a whirlwind. I can still remember the sound, how cool the air was, the image of the tiny ‘illy’ cup as it twirled and flipped in the dust-devil, bits of brightly colored trash and cast aside cigarette butts it’s only company in the miniature cyclone.

There was something so divine in all of it – the cold, the walk that lay ahead of me, the sour nature my spirit had taken on in the past week, but particularly the fact that no one seemed to notice this phenomenon but myself. Not the Africans selling fake sunglasses or the waiters trying to temp hungry tourists into their tents for lunch, nor the many people out in the market purchasing discount leather goods.

The many people marching up the side streets to the church or down the alleyways to the train station, not a single individual spared a glance at this little bauble of plastic as it drummed out a little beat. The usual breeze between the 99-Centre store and the Nuovo Sacristy had scooped up this unsuspecting cup in a dance.

It was bouncing out a tune as it turned in the cyclone, a note struck every time it had lost its ability to break gravity. It was a primitive, simple beat but still unbroken! Like some sprite or spirit had possessed this wind and this cup in the tiniest corner of the medieval city – just to tap out a tune trapped in its head. Like a preoccupied person might drum a song on a table with their fingers, something was making music there by a greater force.

I told myself that it was all right to look, but not to stop – that might break the spell. But as I nearly passed it to continue around the Sacristy and would lose sight of it, I couldn’t believe the beat would go on for much longer. So I stopped, and I watched, and I just stared at this cup and its simple tune. It sounded almost playful to me. I stayed and watched, mesmerized, for a long minute.

I stayed for as long as I could bare it, I did not want to be there to witness it die out and the music to evaporate away, so I forced myself to move on. I swear I could hear it until I made it all the way around to the façade; another miracle when one considers the sheer size of San Lorenzo.