Cruising through the Padova countryside, I realize the blessing that is my life. Neither devastated by death or war, not racked with poverty or famine, I have lived. Is it my duty to witness such difficulty but never undergo such strife? Or perhaps my course is to see the beauty in all creatures, the nobility of those whose lives have left them less fortunate.
The sky various shades of gray and white, then a random burst of blue. The countryside is under development. Yellow cranes and large chunks of broken cement line the tracks. A cathedral peeks over trees per town and every so often passes a small football stadium.
Mustard yellow houses with terracotta tile roofs round out communities. A scrap metal yard behind someone's home, the Italian countryside is not so different from rural Georgia. Fiats instead of pick-ups.
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