Florence at Night.

Florence in the historical district: The streets are empty except for the a lone man hurrying quickly to some destination outside the city. The omnipresent bread bits litter the street along with the usual trash from the day. Around the corner some of the street vendors still sit on the curb smoking cigaretters. The moon, almost full has risen above the buildings and now hangs next to the enormity of the Duomo.

Florence on the otherside of the Arno: The young throng in the park along the river. There is broken glass on the cobblestones and in the park gravel, fresh cigarette butts smolder among the forest of bare legs. Someone in the crowd is singing.

How can a city provide two such different experiences in one moment?