entirely. So, as I turned the last page of\r\nthe book, I resolved then and there to\r\nmake a roughly planned pilgrimage to\r\nRome and Assisi, flying to Italy and walking\r\nas far as time allowed on the paths\r\nthat had been trodden by St. Francis. I\r\nwould leave it to Providence to look after\r\nall the details and to make sure that\r\nthings turned out safely for flie best.\r\nMy pilgrimage certainly kept Providence\r\nbusy. On any number of occasions,\r\nI was rescued from disappointment\r\nand disaster. On the only occasion I\r\nwould get to see Gozzoli's frescoes of the\r\nlife of St. Francis at Montefalco, I arrived\r\nas the church was about to close; there\r\nwas no way my schedule could allow me\r\nhme to wait for it to reopen. Seeing my\r\ndisappointment, the doorman let mc in\r\n"just for ten minutes." I was disappointed\r\nto find the apse filled with scaffolding:\r\nThe paintings were being restored by a\r\nteam of experts. But they had just gone to\r\nlunch, so I was able to climb their tower\r\nunchallenged and get as close to the\r\npainhngs on the ceiling as Gozzoli had\r\nbeen himself\r\nWlien I stupidly lost the path after Valfabbrica,\r\nI foimd myself following the\r\nmain highway to Perugia for miles, picking\r\nmy way through roadkill and Coke\r\ncans while container lorries tugged at my\r\nbackpack with their slipstreams. But\r\nwhen I cut back toward Assisi at Planello,\r\nI encountered delights that I would otherwise\r\nhave missed, including the...
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