The sense of touch has always been attributed to hands. We reach out and grasp, mold, feel, experience, all with only half of our available phalanges. In Florence, a city riddled with “do not touch” signs, the hands have become a virtually useless tool for our senses. How is one to experience a city without one of the most exciting? With what society has taught us to cover-up, to protect, to ignore, the feet.
We unbound our imprisoned toes to finally, after three weeks, actually touch the city. In doing so experiencing the streets in a way only drunk girls with uncomfortable shoes would understand. By removing our foot prison the streets became very real under our tender soles. The cobblestone that have made up the city for hundreds of years went from dark and uneven, to smooth and at points almost forgiving. We were finally touching the “do not touch” city, an act most people will never do. Others will not know that the stones near the Piazzale Michelangiolo are considerably more worn and well kept than some of the small side streets. They will never know how the stones rub off on your feet, turning them an uncomfortable shade of onyx. They will never stand in the shower and watch part of Florence wash down the drain. The city was now a part of us, worn into our feet.
We unbound our imprisoned toes to finally, after three weeks, actually touch the city. In doing so experiencing the streets in a way only drunk girls with uncomfortable shoes would understand. By removing our foot prison the streets became very real under our tender soles. The cobblestone that have made up the city for hundreds of years went from dark and uneven, to smooth and at points almost forgiving. We were finally touching the “do not touch” city, an act most people will never do. Others will not know that the stones near the Piazzale Michelangiolo are considerably more worn and well kept than some of the small side streets. They will never know how the stones rub off on your feet, turning them an uncomfortable shade of onyx. They will never stand in the shower and watch part of Florence wash down the drain. The city was now a part of us, worn into our feet.