Pic found at Wikipedia
Photographer: Giovanni Dall'Orto
So... I've started this blog because I've told to my English teacher what a deep feeling I'd got when I came into this church.
The first time I saw it was on Thursday, 2o11 June 23 and it was my first time at several ways: first time in Europe, first day in Milan, and the first tour at that beautiful italian city. I'd arrived the hostel, took a shower (or some like that, there were a bath with a tap a little down in the wall, that shower was such a gym) and then I went to walk by Milan streets. It was eight o'clock, but sun was strongly alight. I'd got a nice time there down the sun, yet!
This church was placed so close the hostel that although I had just two days to know Milan, I could went there twice. First time I didn't understand that it was possible to enter, just by pushing the doors after this facade. I was in front of them, but thinking they were closed.
In the second visit, at Friday, I'd the luck to be there when somebody were entering the church, so I'd went after her. Then, I could see those marvelous ceilings, floors, walls with little chappels and fresco paintings, sculptures of saints at niches, and more a lot of wonders. Even the banks were beautiful. I'd walked a little time inside the church, observing all that lovely things and taking some papers to know something more about that building.
After then I decided to sit down in banks as a parishioner and take a look at the celebration that was going on inside there. Suddenly such a big emotion took over me and I started to cry as a child. The beauty of thet place have a nuisance strength which could make me feel as I were a 20 cm little woman... but it was lovely, it didn't drive me sad... I guess I've got no words to express those feelings, it looked like some happy but opressing moments. It looked I were going smaller and condensed, becoming strong and translucent. I'd got such strong feelings that I couldn't do nothing cry.
I was there thinking on how much people had prayed inside, how were they going in their time lives, how Christianism opressed and killed a lot a people but also how strong this faifth could be till the point to make people blind. And that Church considered like a piece of art, how wonderfully it could be preserved for centuries and centuries.
And there were the little Rose. Then I left this place with the knowledge that my trip to Europe was valid already. I needed to enter that church. My matherialistic beliefs were not disturbed, but my love for Arts and History of Civilizations were expanded to out of me. It was a kind of revelation to me.
Traduzindo:
Então... iniciei o blog por causa dessa igrejinha. Eu disse ao meu professor de inglês o quão profundo a Chiesa di Santa Maria presso San Celso me tocou os sentimentos, quando nela entrei.
A primeira vez que a vi foi na quinta-feira, dia 23 de junho de 2011 e aquela era minha primeira vez de muitas formas: primeira vez na Europa. primeira vez em Milão e o primeiro passeio naquela linda cidade italiana. Eu tinha chegado ao hostel, tomado um banho (se é que pode se chamar aquilo de banho, tinha uma banheira com torneira bem embaixo, na parede e o tal banho foi tipo uma ginástica) e então fui caminhar pelas ruas de Milão. Eram 20h mas o sol brilhava fortemente aceso. E eu ainda passei uma hora me divertindo por lá, sob o sol.
The first time I saw it was on Thursday, 2o11 June 23 and it was my first time at several ways: first time in Europe, first day in Milan, and the first tour at that beautiful italian city. I'd arrived the hostel, took a shower (or some like that, there were a bath with a tap a little down in the wall, that shower was such a gym) and then I went to walk by Milan streets. It was eight o'clock, but sun was strongly alight. I'd got a nice time there down the sun, yet!
This church was placed so close the hostel that although I had just two days to know Milan, I could went there twice. First time I didn't understand that it was possible to enter, just by pushing the doors after this facade. I was in front of them, but thinking they were closed.
In the second visit, at Friday, I'd the luck to be there when somebody were entering the church, so I'd went after her. Then, I could see those marvelous ceilings, floors, walls with little chappels and fresco paintings, sculptures of saints at niches, and more a lot of wonders. Even the banks were beautiful. I'd walked a little time inside the church, observing all that lovely things and taking some papers to know something more about that building.
After then I decided to sit down in banks as a parishioner and take a look at the celebration that was going on inside there. Suddenly such a big emotion took over me and I started to cry as a child. The beauty of thet place have a nuisance strength which could make me feel as I were a 20 cm little woman... but it was lovely, it didn't drive me sad... I guess I've got no words to express those feelings, it looked like some happy but opressing moments. It looked I were going smaller and condensed, becoming strong and translucent. I'd got such strong feelings that I couldn't do nothing cry.
I was there thinking on how much people had prayed inside, how were they going in their time lives, how Christianism opressed and killed a lot a people but also how strong this faifth could be till the point to make people blind. And that Church considered like a piece of art, how wonderfully it could be preserved for centuries and centuries.
And there were the little Rose. Then I left this place with the knowledge that my trip to Europe was valid already. I needed to enter that church. My matherialistic beliefs were not disturbed, but my love for Arts and History of Civilizations were expanded to out of me. It was a kind of revelation to me.
Traduzindo:
Então... iniciei o blog por causa dessa igrejinha. Eu disse ao meu professor de inglês o quão profundo a Chiesa di Santa Maria presso San Celso me tocou os sentimentos, quando nela entrei.
A primeira vez que a vi foi na quinta-feira, dia 23 de junho de 2011 e aquela era minha primeira vez de muitas formas: primeira vez na Europa. primeira vez em Milão e o primeiro passeio naquela linda cidade italiana. Eu tinha chegado ao hostel, tomado um banho (se é que pode se chamar aquilo de banho, tinha uma banheira com torneira bem embaixo, na parede e o tal banho foi tipo uma ginástica) e então fui caminhar pelas ruas de Milão. Eram 20h mas o sol brilhava fortemente aceso. E eu ainda passei uma hora me divertindo por lá, sob o sol.
Essa igreja ficava tão perto do hostel que eu pude ir lá duas vezes, embora tivesse somente dois dias pra conhecer Milão. Na primeira vez, não entendi que bastava empurrar uma das portas que ficavam detrás dessa fachada e poderia entrar na igreja. Eu estava em frente a elas, mas pensava que estivessem fechadas.
Na segunda visita, que foi na sexta-feira, tive a sorte de encontrar uma pessoa que entrava na igreja, então eu fui atrás dela. Assim, pude ver aqueles maravilhosos tetos, assoalhos, paredes com capelinhas e pinturas em afresco, esculturas de santos em nichos e mais um monte de maravilhas. Até os bancos eram bonitos. Caminhei por algum tempo dentro da igreja, observando todas aquelas coisas lindas e pegando alguns folhetos para conhecer algo mais sobre aquela construção.
Na segunda visita, que foi na sexta-feira, tive a sorte de encontrar uma pessoa que entrava na igreja, então eu fui atrás dela. Assim, pude ver aqueles maravilhosos tetos, assoalhos, paredes com capelinhas e pinturas em afresco, esculturas de santos em nichos e mais um monte de maravilhas. Até os bancos eram bonitos. Caminhei por algum tempo dentro da igreja, observando todas aquelas coisas lindas e pegando alguns folhetos para conhecer algo mais sobre aquela construção.
Depois, eu decidi me sentar nos bancos como uma paroquiana e espiar a celebração que acontecia lá dentro. Subitamente, uma grande emoção tomou conta de mim e eu comecei a chorar como uma criança. A beleza daquele lugar tinha uma força capaz de me fazer sentir como se eu fosse uma mulherzinha de uns 20 centímetros... mas era lindo, não me deixava triste... Acho que não tenho palavras para descrever aquelas sensações, parecim momentos felizes e opressivos, ao mesmo tempo. Parecia que eu estava diminuindo e me condensando, tornando-me forte e translúcida. Eram sentimentos tão fortes que eu não poderia fazer nada além de chorar.
Eu estava lá pensando em quantas pessoas rezaram lá dentro, como elas levavam suas vidas, como o cristianismo oprimiu e matou tantas pessoas, mas também o quão forte essa fé podia ser, ao ponto de cegar as pessoas. E como aquela igreja, enquanto objeto de arte, pode ter sido maravilhosamente preservada por séculos e séculos.
E lá estava a pequena Rose. Então eu deixei aquele lugar sabendo que minha viagem à Europa já tinha valido a pena. Eu precisava entrar naquela igreja. Minhas crenças materialistas não foram abaladas, mas meu amor pelas Artes e pela Historia das Civilizações foram expandidos para fora de mim. Tive uma espécie de revelação.
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