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I live in my own lands,

The lands where five hundred years ago

I chose a man,

A humble stonecutter,

To breathe life into my dream.

Andrea Palladio was his name.



My dream

Hailed from Athens and told the story of Western Man.

My dream hailed from Rome

And was named Virtue.

My dream was the Serenisima and the Renaissance.

It was made of silk, it was made of stone,

It was refinement.


Take heed. Remember.

Cast away all thought

And come seek me out.


Many are my temples scattered across these lands,

Woven in water

And over hill and horizon,

From the lower Dolomites

To the lagoon of Venice.

Many are my eternal cities

And ancient burghs,

Many are my stories yet to unfold,

Many the roads less travelled.

Seek yours out. Name your own.

Come and cross my threshold, immerse yourself,

Breathe in my scents,

Feel my breeze in your hair.

Step out into the open, come and savour me.

Yes, your time has come.

All is ready.

Cast away all thought and come seek me out.

Name your very own Palladian Route.

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