You would get along well with
@Chase, that's also his favourite era. I'm more of a Baroque enthusiast, but I do appreciate the structure provided by masters of the Italian Renaissance.
I have enjoyed my conversations with the Director. He is an honorable, intriguing figure who seems to have the power to draw others in and shape them into the best versions of themselves. I can see why so many respect him. Unfortunately, I am afraid we will never see eye to eye on our opinions of rightful ownership or acquisition techniques. A shame, really.
My next question: Mountain or Seastrand?
If you had asked me that question a year ago, I would have said seastrand with no hesitation. I have spent significant time in the mountains around Guadalajara since then, and the view has grown on me. I still prefer the sea in a general sense, but would choose those mountains if specifics are called into question.
Theoretical question: if this was your last day to live, what would you do, from the time you wake to the time you sleep?
I hope you do not know something that I do not.
I would spend it in Florence, with my husband and parents. I hope that we would all be able to put aside our differences for the sake of my last day on Earth. (You did specify "
your last day to live" so I will assume that this is all about me, and they will go on living after I am gone.) We would eat a light breakfast of biscotti and cappuccinos while walking the Piazza del Duomo - early, before the crowds become unbearable. In the afternoon, we would make our way over to the Uffizi Gallery, and later, the Basilica di San Lorenzo. We would go to an auction, and I would buy the most expensive piece of art there because it is not like they would be able to collect on the funds anyway. Afterwards, we would enjoy a long dinner and several bottles of fine wine, where past transgressions both real and imagined would seem unimportant, and all that mattered was this room and the people in it. After that, I would want them all to leave me. My husband would take it the hardest - he would not want me to die alone - but we all die alone in the end, and I would rather have him remember me as warm and living. I would retire to a luxury suite in some exclusive hotel overlooking the city; it would not matter which one, as long as it had a balcony. More wine would be waiting for me on the balcony, and I would drink it while writing a final letter to each of the handful of people for whom I hold a measure of regard. I would tell them anything that yet remained unsaid, and affirm what had already been spoken in kindness or affection. I expect I would fall asleep out there on that balcony, both the bottle of wine and my letters only half-finished. I do not like to leave work undone, but I think I would be all right with this. Anything that truly mattered would have already been said, because, as a wise man once said, hesitation breeds regrets.