The women remained in the parked car for a moment longer, examining a beautiful cathedral nearby and singing the last words of ‘O Sole Mio’, completely out of tune when compared to Pavarotti’s unearthly voice.

Nevertheless, they applauded their own performance while Marina turned off the stereo system and climbed out of the giant vehicle. The others followed her lead, wrapped coats more tightly around their bodies as the cold winter wind ran through their arms and legs, made them shiver.

The Americans didn’t know where to not look at. Everything drew smiles and exclamations of wonder from their lips: The huge church, the contrast it did against modern streets, the ancient architecture of establishments that surrounded the square… even the blue sky, marred by thin white clouds that were, in fact, smoke from small airplanes, were a delight.

‘Ladies and, uh, more ladies, this is the Duomo Square, la Piazza del Duomo.’ Marina informed them, feeling glad for their elation. She remembered how happy she’d been during her first days in L.A., as every small thing struck her as foreign.

‘This is amazing.’ Alice declared as she eyed the streets.

‘I’d seen pictures of this cathedral before, but nothing compares to seeing it on live.’ Bette ran an analyzing, expert stare through the entire building.

‘It must be awesome to live in a place surrounded by so many nice things like that.’ Shane commented, taken aback by the whole square. ‘This isn’t something we see everyday in L.A.’

‘I share your awe.’ Marina confessed. ‘Being away from Firenze during such a long time has made me homesick. I missed this city and now it seems to be enshrouded with a new glory.’  

The Italian watched the cathedral. The round dome, a thin arrow on its’ center, looked like it wanted to reach and embrace the sky. The monument was enormous, beautiful, imposing. It struck them with wonder and inspiration, fear and merriment. These emotions circled in their chests, danced tauntingly around each other.

‘I have been living here for a long time.’ Alba stated. ‘But my heart still jumps whenever I see the Duomo and I feel like an eternal visitor instead of a resident.’

There were a few tourists on the streets, scattered by, taking pictures. The Americans approached the cathedral, touched a patch of white marble, tried to commit to memory the ornaments made in green and pink, the imposing arcs, sculpted and painted images, geometric forms. No detail escaped their attention. They felt humbled yet uplifted, closer to a divine force, no matter their religious beliefs.