



A boy, a sling, a city on the edge of glory. Carved from a single block of marble, David wasn’t just a statue. He was Florence’s defiance in stone. Towering, lifelike, and impossible to ignore. The body still. The gaze set. The moment before the storm. Michelangelo didn’t just sculpt a hero. He gave the Renaissance its face.
One statue. Seventeen feet. Five hundred years of awe.