On a very hot day in Florence, we took a short rest in the shade near the doors of the Ospedale degli Innocenti. This like-minded gentleman was sleeping behind us. He fascinated me. Maybe because of his worn jeans, I thought he was a vagrant. But I also felt a kinship with him. His shirt was fresh, clean, and pressed and he was wearing the exact same shoes that I had on my feet.
After we cooled down we continued exploring Florence. We didn’t expect to see our sleepy friend again.
A few days later, we met him again not far from the Ponte Vecchio. There he was, still in the same shoes I was wearing. As it turned out he was a fellow artist, drawing the scene on the old bridge. I found out later he was a relatively well known local character. Here he is. Hard at work in The Artist.