Flights of Fancy

"How much further?"
"I don't know; here, hold the map."
We pause at an intersection extending into a plaza, and shielding my eyes from the steady drizzle, I locate a faded stone block on the building across from us. The darkness of evening and the rain makes it hard to see, but I can just make out Via Nazionale on the sign. Did we pass the shop already? I take the crumpled map into my hands and try to trace our route. After a few fruitless moments, I point down a tall alley to our right. Should be somewhere over there.
The sound of our splashing feet bounces off the building walls, and I get the sense that we are the only people in Florence. I shiver further into my jacket.
"Maybe somewhere around here... Ah, I think this is it."
Squeezed in between dark orange three-story apartment buildings is a minute shop with a shabby sign above the doorframe, reading "Alice Masks". The light from inside spills onto the glistening pavement, creating a golden carpet, beckoning us inside.
Throwing off my wet hood, I push on the heavy glass door and try to gather my wits as a thousand hollow eye sockets glare at me from all directions. Some laugh a menacing chortle, others roar courageously, and still others draw a blank. The masks cover every inch of the walls, and the sneaky ones have crept onto the ceiling. In my amazement, I am startled by a fat rat bounding toward my feet, and stumble half a step backwards. Oh, no, it's a dog. A tiny Yorkshire Terrier wobbles past me, its short feet tripping over each other, the collar bell jingling cheerfully. At once, I hear girlish cooing behind me, sigh, and take my gaze around the room.
Trying to keep my jaw from hanging open proves to be the biggest challenge, next to choosing which mask is the most beautiful. String and flute music softly embracing me, I feel like I've just stepped into the shop of a master mask-maker in a village market of a video game. Anything you can name, any mythical creature or animal, any human creation, you can find in the tiny shop. White rabbits stare blankly at me with their black eye holes and puffy cheeks; bird men look ahead with each feather elegantly poised on their faces; the Gods of Sun and Moon watch my every move. Each exquisitely crafted and painted, these are evidently the work of a true artist. At the back of the shop, an elderly man sits at a cluttered desk, painting tiny flowers onto the cheek of a beautiful girl's mask.
"Ex-excuse me..", I mumble, feeling inferior next to such a master.
He doesn't look up.
"... Sir, d-did you make all these?"
He nods and continues his work, seemingly admiring the miniature lilac petals.
In awe, I cautiously walk through the shop, moving up and down the narrow aisle so many times that I'm sure my feet have worn a groove in the wooden floor. My friend pays no attention to the beauty surrounding her, just to the yappy hairball at her feet. Which of these fantastic creations do I pick? Maybe the black leather one at the entrance, a half mask with cold, chiseled features. Or perhaps the white rabbit mask, which seems to follow me everywhere. A bright jester with purple and yellow hat segments and gold details in the seams. A V for Vendetta mask stands out in the midst of others, a friendly-looking piece. How about the fierce, rough-scaled dragon head, would that look good on my wall? My gaze feeling the surface of the walls, I spot one that is really breathtaking. A woman's slender face with thin, tilted eye slits and small lips hangs above his workstation, another desk with crumpled newspapers, cracked paint brushes of various sizes, and cans of paint. She is a warm light green colour, with elegant branches and leaves on her head, with the occasional golden-brown pine cone. The gracious female spirit of the forest.
I drift over to it, mesmerized, and turn the tiny price tag over in my hand. The amazed expression now slightly stony on my face, I drift back to my spot.
After a few more minutes of desperate decision-making, I carefully take a mask down from the wall. It is the black and white Vendetta, with pink blush on the cheeks and a splash of colour on the lips. I cautiously proceed to the old man, and stand right in front of him holding it, while he finishes a detail on his current work. He glances at me briefly and continues painting.
"You know there are some on sale behind you that are exactly like that.", he says, watching his paint brush.
I've looked at those masks before, and they are €15 cheaper due to unevenness of the eyes or a small mistake on the painted work.
"I know, but I want this one.", I tell him, smiling.
He puts down his mask and tools, and takes Vendetta from me. To my great surprise, he kindly lowers the price to that of the sale masks. He flips it over onto its face and gets out a marker. Is he.. Is he signing it?..
"For you?", he enquires, really looking at me for the first time.
I nod happily.

He signs it, "To Julia; Con Affetto". My trip to Italy is now complete.