In the hills above Florence, Italy, is an ancient town founded by the Romans and maybe the Etruscans before them.  Fiesole is perched on a tiny summit with views that stretch forever in all directions.

In the middle of the town are the ruins of Roman baths, and an amphitheatre. 

Last May, I stood on the stage of that theatre, orating to an invisible crowd, hearing the amazing acoustics as my voice echoed around me, and thinking about all the rhetorical wisdom that the Romans and Greeks have passed down to us.

They understood that the audience is the most important part of any communication.  Amphitheatres go up to the audience, not down.  The stage is the lowest point.

They understood that any presentation has to begin by answering a key question for that specific audience:  why does this matter?  Why is what the speaker is going to say important?

They understood that only once you’ve oriented the audience can you tell them the what and the how.  In that order.

And they understood sight lines!  Every single seat in the amphitheatre in Fiesole has a perfect view of the stage.

It was a blazingly hot day in Fiesole, and I didn’t last long in the sun.  I gave a very brief speech to my partner Nikki, looking down on me from the middle seats, and to the ghosts of Cicero, Quintilian, and Demosthenes.

Then we went for an ice cream. 

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