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There is a bench in Giardino Niccolò Galli, a small park in Florence, that has become like my second office. Two or three times a week, I sit waiting for my kids to finish their track and field training. Some days, I bring my computer and write. Other days, I watch. The bench I occupy is on the periphery. My vantage point is perfect: not too close to the action, but not too far away either. All sorts of people stroll up and down the walkway.

A man—looks like a professional—walks by jabbering into his cellphone and trying to eat a bombolone (Italy’s take on a doughnut). A giant blob of cream oozes out and lands right on the breast of his navy suit. He pulls an old-fashioned handkerchief from his pocket, and while managing to remove a good portion of the cream, he smears the rest deep into the fabric of his suit. A middle-aged woman is learning to ride a bike, her friend holding on to the seat so she doesn’t tip. An elderly couple—I’m guessing in their 80s—with arms linked, walk leisurely in their matching Gucci loafers. As they pass by, a young woman comes and sits on the other end of the bench I am on, so quietly I don’t notice.

I asked a friend of mine recently what a park bench means to them. Their response: “Old guys playing chess. TV commercials, where the guy opens a paper bag and is delighted at a vast array of meat-based comestibles. Forrest Gump. Wait, that’s a bus stop bench. Plaques. Benches donated by wealthy families In Memoriam. Why such a question, anyway? Is this some kind of subversive psychoanalysis?” No psychoanalysis, I assured them. Just me thinking.

NUVO editor Claudia Cusano.

There are many park benches and, depending on the city, a few sunny days. Next time you pass one, sit and watch. Nothing of much consequence seems to transpire. But in actual fact, it’s this glimpse of the world going by that, in turn, is our reality check. So whether you’re in Stanley Park, Central Park, Hyde Park, or that park just around the corner from where you live, find yourself a bench and watch.

And bring along your copy of NUVO. There’s a lot to read in this issue: cover talent Scott Speedman has come a ways since his breakout role in the late-’90s coming-of-age drama Felicity to his most recent role in the horror series Teacup, where he plays a flawed father who is trying to keep his family safe from a mysterious threat. Artistic power couple Nadia Belerique and Tony Romano open up about juggling life and work. Montreal’s Samuel Lambert gives us insight into the success of his lighting atelier Lambert & Fils. Interdisciplinary artist Walter Scott tells us how his graphic novel series Wendy came to be. Hear from Kaniehtiio Horn about her struggles as an Indigenous actor, travel to Zermatt, Switzerland, choose your slope-style look from our fashion pages, and check out our guide to the best in Canadian sparkling wine. There’s plenty more to discover in NUVO—and also while watching the world from that park bench.

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