I know now what it means to be a wanderess. There were a million alleyways and they seemed to form a labyrinth. Some were so narrow that even my own body, so feeble and bony, seemed to barely squeeze through. There was no point in using a map. The city is a maze. And, if you did put a map in front of your face, you would probably walk yourself into a canal. It was just what I needed. To be lost, to drift, and to float. In surroundings so inexplicably beautiful.

I had never set my eyes on a sky so blue and water so pearl-like before. The buildings are magnificent. Even in their battered, crumbling, antiquated state. It allows you to envision its history playing around you. I could see Casanova tiptoeing on the wall’s edge of Doge’s Palace. I could see Marco Polo getting ready to set sail for the East.

It felt so fairy-tale like and surreal. People’s front doors open out into the water. Many times, the only “pieces of land” one can walk on are the bridges that connect the islands. It all seemed so simple but complicated. What do you do if your boat is stolen? Are you stuck inside of your house until you are rescued? Where are the sidewalks? I pondered and pondered as I watched school children come home and mothers go grocery shopping on their boats. When much of Europe can seem overpowering and daunting in its grandeur, Venice makes your heart feel warm. It’s a peculiar way of life. And, I think I like it

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