“I would do it”, I told myself as I boarded the aircraft at Southend , in the high old style.” I will not argue, I would spend happy interludes of architectural contemplation over coffees in the San Marco Piazza, and I would never count the cost. I would take a gondola for a whole day to loiter around the canals and watch Venice’s magical silhouette sink into the sunset, even after a thousand years”.
Few hours later and I was right there, waiting for my ‘vaporetto’. The teetering silence, the sea, the people- everything was so close to perfect that I harldy dared to breathe. The bell in the church tower rang, and suddenly I was in love. Heart-rushingly, knee-tremblingly and eye-wettingly in love with her, with Venice.
The sexy little noises that rise from under her skirts as you walk down a canalside, the visceral scent of her fishiest places-like the Rialto market, the happy interludes of architectural contemplation over coffees in the Piazza, the souvenir stores – they all made me run to Venice. And then here she is, Venice, wrapping herself around me and making me happy.
Then I met him, and I was in love again. I told him about Venice, and eventually he took me there.
As twosomes go, it was one of the most successful I have had. On a ‘love bridge’, he took me in his arms and I got lost.
It seemed that Venice herself wrapped her arms around us and an entire city became just that very tiny spot, on the bridge, over the canal. We always called that way of standing “the bridge position”.
“We do not remember days,” said Cesare Pavese, “we remember moments.” Smart man.
It all ended badly, of course. He shattered what passes for my heart and I haven’t let it out to play since. But we all make mistakes. And I’ll always have Venice.