There are a lot of memories swirling around about this day, 50 years ago, better known as the Flood of 1966. There’s a small rectangular plack under the green shutter to the right of the Madonna that shows how high the water came up to.
This is my street in Florence, and my door. I live on the top 4th floor. If I didn’t have anywhere to go, would I have felt safe? There would be nowhere to escape.
Last week I felt the tremors and wondered if my building fell, would I survive? Doubtfully. My heart goes out to the ones who survived the flood and all the mud angels that came to help and all the people caught in the earthquakes over the last month.
Italy for all its charm and beauty, can really take a beating sometimes.