As he sat there on the curb, flipping through the guidebook, Carter looked across the piazza once more at the line of people waiting to get into the Uffizi. Till now he had avoided the place, given that there always seemed to be a long line out front. He was not at all sure as to what was so special about it, but he supposed there had to be something worth seeing inside if people were willing to wait so long to get in. Carter mulled it over for a moment before getting to his feet. He had nowhere else in mind to go that day, so he decided he would take his place in line and find out what the gallery had to offer. Before enduring the long wait, though, he walked off in the opposite direction in search of a second cone of gelato.

By the time Carter finally made it into the gallery quite a while later, he was feeling hot and tired and not at all enthusiastic about spending much time there. He found the air within was hot and stale, heated as it was by the afternoon sun beaming in through the windows that lined the gallery’s main corridor. Had he not just spent such a long time waiting in line, he might have been inclined to just turn around and go back out into the fresh air. Since he had gone through the trouble, however, there seemed no point in leaving now. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and trudged on ahead to see what paintings of interest he might find.

Starting in the first room, displaying works from the thirteenth century, Carter diligently walked from room to room, giving most of the paintings only a cursory glance, even though he knew without being told that they were all masterpieces. For whatever reason, perhaps simply because he was tired, few of them seemed to capture his imagination. It was not until he progressed to the works of the Renaissance era that he began to slow his pace and pay closer attention. Even then, he was feeling less than inspired, and was considering cutting his visit short when he happened to come upon Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.