It’s ten p.m. Ron and I have just finished another amazing Italian dinner. We stroll back to our hotel holding hands, wading in the silence. When we’re almost home, we stop at the top of a stone bridge. We stare down the canal. The air is cool and the water shines like polished marble. Arched bridges soften the landscape by breaking the straight line of the canal with wave-like visual rhythm. No boats, no wind, no people, no movement.
This is Cannaregio, the neighborhood where our hotel is, at night. This is my own little piece of Venice.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. For just a few seconds, my brain coasts into idle. All the little voices and conflicting aspects of myself go quiet. All there is, is this night and this view.
I love when that happens.