⛪ “Stone That Reaches Sky: A Morning at Milan Cathedral”

#summervacay The Milan Cathedral doesn’t rise—it erupts. All lace-like marble and vertical longing, it stopped me mid-step. Even in the buzz of the piazza, everything fell quiet. There it was: a masterpiece built not just with stone, but with centuries of faith and obsession. Inside, the vastness was humbling. Pillars like sequoias, stained glass in every color the sky has ever worn. I lit a candle for no reason other than gratitude—it felt right. But it’s the rooftop that lingers. I climbed early, before the heat, and found myself walking among spires and statues, each one silently watching over Milan. The details are dizzying—saints, angels, gargoyles, all carved with such devotion they almost breathe. And then the view: a patchwork of rooftops and distant Alps, hazy in the morning light. It’s not just a cathedral. It’s a city of stone reaching for God. Before leaving, I circled the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II nearby—not to shop, but to watch the way light spills across its mosaic floors. Lunch was a quiet focaccia and espresso just outside the bustle. As I walked away, the Duomo still hovered in my mind—its spires now etched into memory, not just skyline.