Siena. Great shafts of hot sunlight break down on the Campo. The tourist groups move like starlings. They never disperse, always looking outward, not at each other, but never wandering. How do they avoid bumping into each other?

The Duomo is chiuso, naturally. A stolen peek around the shoulder of a bossy lady on the ‘No Entry’ sign. The picture gallery is chiuso.

Finally, I take refuge in a local church. It is empty. The cooled sun streams through a stained glass window. The crucifix is lit with a rainbow of light; shifting colours illumine it up. St Dominic, clothed in white, kneeling at the Cross.