I get lonely—and then remember her embrace. She is a floating dream of centuries. As I walk through her narrow passages, I never tire passing over little bridges that span canals. In the water she is reflected as if in a mirror. Her resplendent features are past their prime and sometimes in disrepair, but there is no doubting her grandeur. This is why so many flock to her gates even now after 1000 years.
She keeps me inspired.
Her deep, husky bell chimes resonate the air punctually each day. They remind me of SPIRIT. She has 140 churches. Most seem vacant and hallowed, yet alive.
Her air can be foul but more often I inhale deeply the fragrance of the sea lagoon and am glad.
She has been home to famous artists like Titian, Tintoretto, Vivaldi . . . the poet Ezra Pound buried in her cemetery.
I am like her. Knowing glory and ruin. I wonder sometimes if I am reaching higher ground or sinking. We keep going . . . creating, embracing all, and holding in reserve too.
“When I went to Venice, I discovered that my dream had become–incredibly, but quite simply—my address.” -Marcel Proust