I took hundreds of photographs while I was away, but the one I keep returning to is this fragment. A segment from one of the more damaged frescos by Piero della Francesca in the Cappella Bacci, it speaks to what is hidden, lost, obscured and furtive. Of what lies perpetually just out of our reach.
As my tirelessly patient daughter and her husband, both Renaissance art historians, can attest, Piero is a bit of an obsession for me. I’ll be writing more about him in the weeks ahead once I have reclaimed the rhythm in my daily life here. But this 15th century momento is a powerful touchstone and reminder of what lives outside of the quotidian, of the timelessness that the marks made on a wall over 500 years ago can still evoke.