Most people pass through Padua on the way to Venice.
Others treat it as a quick day trip—then move on.
They don’t stay.
Livy was born here.
Galileo taught here.
Gray cobblestones shifted under my shoes, worn uneven by centuries of footsteps. Arcades stretched along the streets, their shade cutting the heat as sweat ran down my neck.
A quiet settled in.
A moment later, it changes.
