Vicenza is an ancient dream, into which today we can still dive, abandoning ourselves, forgetting for a moment, for a day, for a week, that everything must be done for something, that there must be a small, daily, concrete purpose. Forgetting a life of survival and savoring, inhaling, aspiring to something great, magnificent, ideal. Vicenza is real, but there is also a Vicenza that exists "beyond". Which exists in the wings of the Teatro Olimpico, in the minds of Giangiorgio Trissino and Andrea di Pietro della Gondola, even before taking on his stage name.
Which exists in the minds of our patricians, suddenly forgetting the small provincial feuds, led along a path that leads to the sky, from where today - in the guise of eternal white sculptures - they still observe us today to remind us, we who tread the streets of their city, that this can also be our theater, the scene of the performance in which we become protagonists, if we agree to stop. To forget. To be reborn.
Magnificent.
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