Chapter 129 (1) - The Mysterious Art Museum

Chapter 129 (1) - The Mysterious Art Museum

In the middle of Mount Caputo, where Montreale is located.

In fact, the place where Klimt was moved by the mosaic decorations is not here, but the Basilica of San Vitale in the Ravenna region.

Of course, this place also inspired him, but based on historically recorded facts, I should be in Ravenna, not here.UppTodated from nô/v/e/lb(i)n.c(o)/m

However, that place is just a bit south of Milan, so I plan to visit it by slowly moving up from the bottom.

I started from Palermo at the tip of southern Italy, planning to go up to Milan, passing through Syracuse, Lecce, Naples, Rome, Florence.

As I get off the taxi and look at the gray cathedral with an overwhelmed face, Yona approaches me.

“This cathedral is said to be the most beautiful among the Arab-Norman style buildings. It's also registered as a World Heritage Site. One of the distinguishing features is that one of the bell towers remains unfinished.”

While listening to Yona's explanation and examining the building's exterior, his explanation continues.

“You can enter the Benedictine monastery through the passageway inside the cathedral. This way.”

It seems I've met a good driver. Indeed, a driver who speaks English is the best.

Yona then moved to an area where about 200 paired columns formed a cloister in the Arab style, passing through the interior of the cathedral.

“It's really cool.”

“Isn't it? If you go to the north entrance over there, you can see the bronze statue of Maria, and opposite it is a statue of William II, who donated the cathedral. On the west side, there is a bronze door made by Bonanno Pisano, and inside, there is a basilica-style nave.”

“Shall we go?”

Yona checked the time on his cellphone and then grinned.

“I’ll tell my wife to come to the cathedral, and I’ll go out to meet her. So, take a look around by yourself.”

After getting my permission, Yona immediately called his wife to the cathedral. Fortunately, their house was not far from here.

After Yona disappeared outside the cathedral, I looked at the statues and iron doors he mentioned, then entered the nave.

An immensely high ceiling is visible.

Of course, it's a private theater, and although it may be narrower than the catacomb of W Tree, where I painted the ceiling mural, it's truly remarkable that they built such a structure in a time without advanced construction technology..

“Did they also climb up ladders to paint every single detail?”

The frescoes painted on the ceilings and pillars of the cathedral. The beautiful and splendid paintings emitting a sacred aura are dazzling to the eyes.

Of course, Meloni had thought about having a portrait, but in her situation, it was an unthinkable luxury.

She fell passionately in love at a young age, had a child, and got married at twenty.

Being a native Italian, Meloni was disowned and cut off from her family for loving an immigrant from Morocco, and moreover, a Black man.

She thought it would be fine as long as she was with the person she loved, but she soon realized that passionate love couldn't stand against the harsh realities of life, not even taking a year to learn this.

However, the hope that someday she would spend a happy middle age with her husband, who works hard from dawn to late at night, keeps her going.

Meloni, holding the chair her husband brought out, watches Jeong-hoon looking for a place to paint near the cathedral, then nudges her husband.

"Honey."

"Yeah?"

"Is that man a good painter?"

"I don't know."

"Are you crazy? How much was the taxi fare?"

"About 80 euros?"

"My goodness! That's our ten days' living expense! Are you out of your mind?"

Her husband smiles and hugs her.

"It's okay, we'll eat less, sleep less, and work more. I'm happy I can give you this small gift."

"......"

Feeling both frustrated and angry, but also sensing her husband's love, Meloni closes her mouth and sighs.

"Anyway."

"Huh? It looks like he's painting over there, let's go."

Her husband hurries her towards the grass where Jeong-hoon, sitting on a chair, is waving at them.

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