[Crowbob]

I swooned once. I actually swooned.

Amongst the many and beautiful things I saw one day in Florence was a rather crude frescoe by the hand of an apprentice of Ghirlandaio.

Until that moment, the execution of divine inspiration by human hand was to me an abstraction. There before me, in poor light, were some small images of men in robes on the wall of the nave of an obscure Church in Italy.

At that very moment, my legs rubberized and I faultered, caught in descent by a surprised stranger. I had been stricken with the notion that divinity is unobtainable by any man. Yet, any man can try as Michelangelo had centuries ago. His legacy still speaks to us about his efforts.