Midway across the Ponte Vecchio, couples have turned the wrought iron fence around the Cellini statue into a gnarled mass of brass.
I have a feeling that this developed through benign neglect--a byproduct of people leaving bicycle locks at random spots around the city and cleanup crews allowing them to multiply. Eventually, the clumps of locks grow so massive, they become monuments in and of themselves.
On the bridge, lovers pledge their troth, sign their names to a lock and then latch it. Forever and ever.
As far as I'm concerned, it's better than carving initials in an aspen tree....
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