Upon stepping into Parco Sempione, one can’t help but be overcome by the weight of its deep history and importance. It is a monument to the Italians, a symbol of peace and unity. It utterly juxtaposes the classic chaos of Milan’s Piazza Duomo, where pulsating music fills designer stores and tourists buzz around from dusk until dawn.
The park is, in itself, its own kind of cathedral. Dark, thick tree trunks for columns, birds humming sweet melodies for angels, metal chairs pressed into concrete for pews. The tip of the Castello Sforzeco reigns like a cross over the park. Across the way, the Arco della Pace stands firmly like a soldier guarding the district. Within a sea of greenery, the gentle breeze and the soft hum of water sing peaceful melodies in harmony. It is where old friends reunite, couples embrace, little children frolick, and locals enjoy slow conversations. Indeed, the park seems to freeze time, yet also transcend it.
An excerpt from a recent writing exercise for my Storytelling class.