“Poetry is made in a bed like love
His unmade sheets are the dawn of things …"
André Breton: On the road to San Romano
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Verona, city symbol of eternal love, masterfully exalted and immortalized in William Shakespeare's "The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet", and the Grand Hotel des Arts, liberty palace of the early twenties of the twentieth century, built as a townhouse from Austrian nobles and later transformed into a hotel: a collection of sensations that inspired me.
Verona, it is known, is a city of art, eighth in Italy for tourist presence, rich in Romanesque and medieval treasures, including the Arena, the largest opera stage in the world; but also home to prestigious brands in the agri-food industry, in the textile and mechanical industry, and in the financial and insurance sector: in short, a place to stay for pleasure or work.
The hotel is a place of passage par excellence: a temporary home for its customers.
The hotel room, therefore, suffers and speaks of their "meantime", of which I try to grasp the signs.