Thursday, it is pouring. Out I go with my green umbrella, but no boots. Headed again toward the Piazza del Duomo and the Galleria where I window-shopped at two bookstores including Rizzoli. I got very, very wet and my shoes were irrecoverable. I walked to Pinacoteca di Brera. The modern collection was forgettable, but the rest was wonderful and easy to navigate. The "Dead Christ" I will never forget - the color of the skin, the utter absence of life, the odd perspective of looking feet-first at a body. There was a special exhibition of Carlo Crivelli with his sumptuous depiction of brocades and patterned textiles. In the paintings before 1650, the faces are those of neighbors, real people with real wrinkles, seeing eyes, emotions all over their faces. After that, faces become stylized and boring.
Had lunch at a tourist spot across the street - horrible mushroom pizza, apple cake, but good wine and espresso. Franca met me with the car.
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