Right now, 4:30 pm on Saturday afternoon, the sun on the surface of the water of Rio San Barnaba, the canal outside of our apartment, is reflecting in such a way that the water’s ripples cause shadowed striations across the brick, stucco, and iron Gothic iron windows of the palazzo across the street. A woman who lives there, on the second floor, just closed the doors to her balcony and drew the draperies shut. Maybe it’s too bright a time of day for her but my room with a view is onto tranquil, utter beauty. John’s out and about to find a post box and take more photographs. I just grabbed his tiny Nikon and tried to capture what I’m seeing. Then the bells began. I feel happily here, lost in, lost to this moment. Ah, Venezia.
I write therefore I am. My six-word memoir? Teetered on the precipice then jumped.
Interests: Reading, writing, not arithmetic. The art and craft of poetry. Photography. Vegetable and flower gardening especially heirloom bulbs and dahlias. Movies in real theatres. Theatre on real stages. Art in real galleries. Crossword puzzles and, of course, Wordle. Singer-songwriters like Aimee Mann and Patti Griffin. All kinds of music especially 1930s jazz. Venice, Italy! The Dude abides.
Interests: Reading, writing, not arithmetic. The art and craft of poetry. Photography. Vegetable and flower gardening especially heirloom bulbs and dahlias. Movies in real theatres. Theatre on real stages. Art in real galleries. Crossword puzzles and, of course, Wordle. Singer-songwriters like Aimee Mann and Patti Griffin. All kinds of music especially 1930s jazz. Venice, Italy! The Dude abides.
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