The tide had receded. There were no warning sirens piercing through the city at the break of dawn. I opened the shutters to let in the damp lagoon air. Gentle rays of morning light seeped in, tinted with dusty hues of the Dorsoduro palaces and their worn stones. The sky was limpid after overnight rain that had lingered into the early morning. "I missed it again," I thought, comforted that the mystical spell that somehow always kept me from witnessing rain over the lagoon city was still a pact I could count on.
The day's agenda was still unformed, aside from a dinner date I was already looking forward to with a dear old friend. Time was mine, as was the choice of where my footsteps would lead.
I set out, crossed the first floor which was still musty from the receded waters and shut the heavy front door behind me, happily aware of how quiet the calli still were. Sounds of gentle sweeping, suitcases rolling over the cobblestone on the way to the vaporetto or the ferrovia, conversation bouncing off the narrow lanes' walls, the distant clinking of stacked espresso cups at the bar... And soon, added to those heartwarming sounds, my own footsteps on the Venetian pavement, up and down its bridges, around corners and corners of its infinite maze.
I hadn't ventured far when my head instinctively faced my right. An arch stood as a gateway, its bricks betraying its age, telling tales of centuries past. It was a portal to a tranquil lane guarded by pretty flower boxes and façades of various ocher and peach hues.
The memory of rain lingered on the pavement, storing tiny reflections like little secrets of the universe.
I smiled. How could you not, when your heart sings? #mademelook
I set out, crossed the first floor which was still musty from the receded waters and shut the heavy front door behind me, happily aware of how quiet the calli still were. Sounds of gentle sweeping, suitcases rolling over the cobblestone on the way to the vaporetto or the ferrovia, conversation bouncing off the narrow lanes' walls, the distant clinking of stacked espresso cups at the bar... And soon, added to those heartwarming sounds, my own footsteps on the Venetian pavement, up and down its bridges, around corners and corners of its infinite maze.
I hadn't ventured far when my head instinctively faced my right. An arch stood as a gateway, its bricks betraying its age, telling tales of centuries past. It was a portal to a tranquil lane guarded by pretty flower boxes and façades of various ocher and peach hues.
The memory of rain lingered on the pavement, storing tiny reflections like little secrets of the universe.
I smiled. How could you not, when your heart sings? #mademelook
From my heart to yours.
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