Venice

     The quiet waterways, the calm cobbled streets where above your head someones pastel-hued bed sheets sway gently on a clothesline, the narrow corridors that lead you over tiny bridges and past icons of the Virgin Mary to open unexpectedly into ancient courtyards where no soul lingers, where dusky light sweeps over everything.

     The relentlessly gorgeous agedness of it all, the unforgettable, palpable sense of history and humanity humming along without really considering its own implications.

The impossible city refuses to be anything but deeply beautiful.