The Craftsmen

I wandered around Florence one quiet Friday morning with a camera in hand. Walking down a street I take every day for class, I noticed something shiny out of the corner of my eye. 

I looked over to find a celestial display of hand-made wall decor and was automatically lured in. There were three people in the shop, each slouched over his or her own workspace, consumed by routine. Though their movements were so delicate and precise, they made it seem as if it were something as ordinary as brushing one’s teeth. 

In jumbled Italian, I asked if they minded my photographing them. They happily obliged and I spent the morning watching them in awe as they silently created. 

From the small exchange of words we were able to communicate, the men proudly told me they are cousins and have been working as craftsmen for decades, spending most mornings meticulous producing their decor. 

It is moments like this that remind me of the preciousness of routine and simplicity.