When I was an undergraduate at William and Mary, I saw a poster advertising a master’s program in Florence. I had fallen in love with the city on a high school trip to Europe, when I pet the snout of the boar statue in the Mercato Nuovo to ensure a second visit. Participating in this superstitious ritual didn’t exactly bring me any luck, as 10 minutes later I tripped on a cobblestone and fell flat on my face. This may have been a metaphor for what lay ahead. Regardless, I decided to enroll in the program.