we are in the waning days of my 55th year of life on earth, soon i will have completed my 56th revolution around our glorious star – the sun.
i’m home and i’m not. here and still there – in the most serene republic of venice. walking along her wide fondamentes overlooking the lagoon, strolling beside her mist-filled canals, climbing her bridges, walking beside her citizens in their fine winter coats & fur hats.
russian poet joseph brodsky fell deeply in love with venice in winter.
in winter you wake up in this city, especially on sundays, to the chiming of its innumerable bells, as though behind your gauze curtains a gigantic china tea set were vibrating on a silver tray in the pearl-gray sky, you fling the window open and the room is instantly flooded with this outer, peal-laden haze, which is part damp oxygen, part coffee and prayers.
back in 2012, when i visited for the first time, i was determined to do the same. i rightly figured that if brodsky always visited in december, i would too.
now i have been to venice twice in december. i have seen the fog rolling in from the lagoon, turning the city into a watercolor painting. i have walked inside that painting. today i’m there, walking still.
eventually i’ll start drifting west back to sunny california. but not yet.
hope you’re well. enjoying your winter holidays. taking time to read, rest, plan, scheme, and dream. i’ll just be here doing the same.