Fata viam invenient

“You won’t ever pass the exam.”
“You didn’t get the scholarship to study abroad.”
It was that day I understood graduating would have been very difficult, if not impossible. It had lost value in my eyes anyway. Stuck in a university that didn’t teach me anything, just to get a piece of paper that would help me find a job, I had to learn everything by myself.
No point in crying, really. I just felt depleted, hollow. In that frame of mind I found myself in front of the Buonaccorsi Palace. I still had two hours to wait until the bus left. Ergo, I decided to visit what my friend called the jewel of Macerata.
Built in the eighteenth century, the palace is known for the carriage museum and the Hall of the Aeneid. The carriage museum, located in the basement, displays a collection of twenty-four vehicles belonging to different time periods, including sporty models, carriages for long journeys and state coaches. The oldest one is a Berline dating back to the 19th century. Walking among them, jumping from an age to another, I got carried away by thoughts of past travelers, dauntless adventurers, desperate escapes at breakneck speed and romantic soirées.
Then I proceeded to the first floor, piano nobile, headed towards the Hall of the Aeneid. I was tempted to stop for the art exhibition, but I had only 30 minutes left. As soon as I set foot inside the hall I was swept away by its grandeur. Red and yellow marble floor, walls covered in gold leaf, elaborate frieze decorations, arabesque pilaster strips and a barrel vault ceiling skillfully frescoed by Michelangelo Ricciolini with the Wedding of Bacchus and Ariadne. Frozen in time by strokes of vibrant colors, Bacchus and Aridane sing of eternal love, instilling happiness in the charmed spectator. Every single detail demanded equal attention, it made my head spin. And finally I focused on a series of paintings adorning the walls. These eleven rococo works by prominent artists of the period depict different scenes from the Aeneid, celebrating Aeneas, the embodiment of pietas, a waverig hero tormented by doubts. I always felt a strong connection with this anguished character, this flawed champion. I lost myself in the paintings, immersed in the story, as long as I could. And when it was time to leave, my eyes cast on the floor, it was almost as if I could hear my former Latin professor whispering: audentes fortuna iuvat (fortune favors the bold). I smiled. I knew that eventually Fate will find a way.