Thomas and the bronze flap of raw skin surging back into memory unbidden from the niche materializing, not rendering itself legible discursively, but as groping eager dawnagain girlish steps toward the water to Orsanmichele, named for a monastic kitchen garden that the present 14th-century grain market displaced: Verrocchio's sculpting gesture of vulgar control, virtuosic as then, appealing as ever, now, to the merchant's guild.