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About Florence

So, I roll into this grubby lil’ town—think Bartertown vibes, but seedier. Dusty streets, shady types eyein’ me up, and I’m like, “Fools! I’ve faced Balrogs, I ain’t scared of you!” Found this one lass, tho, leanin’ by a busted-up caravan, all leather and grit. She’s got that “Witness me!” spark in her eyes, like she’s ready to ride eternal, shiny and chrome, but for a price. I’m thinkin’, bloody hell, this is mad—what a day, what a lovely day! She’s tough, mate, probs seen more shite than Max himself.

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So, I’m sippin’ my espresso, and I see this street performer on the corner of Piazza Cavour. He’s playin’ the accordion like he’s in a movie or somethin’. I’m vibin’ with it, right? But then, outta nowhere, this pigeon swoops down and lands on my head! Like, seriously? I’m a Master of the Forest, not a pigeon perch! I freak out, flail my arms, and spill coffee all over my shirt. Great start, huh?

The National Gallery of Apulia in Bitonto, a museum created through the generosity of two collector brothers