The Palindrome of the Sun

Veronica Sanitate's The Palindrome of the Sun begins in Florence, in the Baptistery, where generations came to be christened before entering the Duomo. On its floor, a black-and-white zodiac mosaic served as a living clock, the sun itself marking the year's arc. Solstice emerges as a turning point, the fading palindrome carved around the sun evoking circularity, return, and the persistence of time. The words are barely legible, their translation lost, but Sanitate revives them, rendering the sun's blaze as it spins constellations and traces the arc of human experience. These meditations move between art and history, science and myth, tracing cycles of life, the cosmos, and what endures. In The Palindrome of the Sun, Florence becomes both mirror and doorway; the familiar world is refracted into patterns of continuity, reflection, and return, and the reader is left to consider the measure of time, the turning of seasons, and our place within it.