Where am I?

No pictures to show, not because there were no pictures, but because the pictures that exist are nothing new, and the ones I wanted to take, I could not.
In the last week, I have done my fair share of exploring; I feel that I understand the city somewhat better than before. I've had a few conversations, nothing of note really: pleasantries and salutations. I've stood, twice, completely silent, alone, small, under the frescoes of Tuscan painters: at the Museo di Santa Maria della Scalla and at the Museo Civico. Knowing nothing of art, I can hardly describe what the paintings looked like; what drew me to them; and how they have affected me. Being unable to photograph them, I cannot show you. But I can say that I have a strong desire to understand how it is possible for one person to so perfectly capture a scene, that I feel I could at any moment be absorbed, a part of the landscape. There is no other way I know how to say this. What amazed me most, as I mutely trasfixed my gaze on painting after painting, is the impossible notion that I could create something so beautiful, so perfect, so real. I have always been drawn to those who can do what I cannot, and I am brought... to solemness, by seeing the great works of Sienese artists.
Italian grammar is difficult. I am uncomfortable trying to speak, write, learn the language. The rules change often. A rule that I grasp onto is different when the situation changes. I am not dismayed, but I am disappointed that it does not come more easily. Though I know that it will, I am dismayed yet. My goal at the moment, as I struggle with sounding competent, is to approximate sienese pronunciation. There is a slight, and, I think, beautiful, difference in the spoken language. That makes it flow so much more quickly; completely.
I head off tomorrow, to San Gimignano. I hear it is beautiful, hopefully there will be pictures to follow.