Lowestoft Chronicle has published the (a)gripping story of one of my foreign quests, on the verge of the new Millennium, in their Fall 2019 issue, #39.
And so, with fall coming, with trees and late afternoon light yellowing, turning to gold (no matter if it's fools'), let us travel to Rome.
"But after all, Agrippa is not here. The Etruscans are here—their finely granulated gold jewelry, their etched bronze mirrors—those things you’ve seen in the art books, and roomfuls more, laid out in all their mystery and splendor. And in the garden there are heavy-laden lime trees, and a small café where you can sit and rest your blistered feet and imagine that you have turned the clocks back and returned to summer for a little while. All that is here, at the Museo Nazionale di Villa Giulia, and for only 8000 lire (a single stroke of the delightful triple-zero key which I’ve fallen in love with on Italian ATM machines); but the marble head of Marcus Agrippa, builder of ancient Rome and second-in-command to Augustus Caesar, which we have come so many hellish miles to see, is not here. “We are Etruscans,” the old museum guard with his beetling brows and military bearing says dismissively."
image: Vatican Museum - Hall of Busts, Saint Mary's Press
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