Getting lost is the only place to go

Venice has been my life long fantasy. Quoted by many as city of romance,  it has been one destination that’d manged to turn my head at its casual mention. Some say, it is constant in its relaxed spell of air surrounding the canal where boats sway their bottoms without hesitation and hurry. Others similarly describe it as a reservoir of cool, still water rippling in gentle breeze – bouncing off square roof tops and incandescent window panes gathering stories and dissolving secrets into its infinite depths. It definitely seems a place to get lost, to release your bearings, to cherish and start longing again. Or if it is a venue that sticks its name every time you mention any other city. Or just a bunch of hype.

So I come here to witness it first hand and it does not disappoint me. It stays a little aloof as I lean my head to the side in the boat, unknowingly settling like a tourist. It comes closer with rocking waves against the aged wood as I raise my hand against the setting sun, gathering the gold before it scatters into the canal. The light music from somewhere finds its rhythm with the rocking boat and the notes rest in my ears before they dissolve forever. Time stands still, over the horizon, for hours as I follow the passage of sun until it turns into a luminous moon, fresh and tender like a girl, ready to be kissed. And I realize that this city cannot be owned, only admired and slept with, leaving a sliver of love stuck in your heart valves, forever.

They say everyone has at least one day to remember in their lifetime, one single day even if lasts for an hour or a moment – when everything falls in place; when the universe complies with your truest wishes and when the world becomes your world when it gives you a standing ovation for your existence in it.

This is my time, with Venice in my arms and eyes.

 photo Venice_zps8a749cfc.jpg


Above in response to Moi’s picture challenge – once more with feeling

The title is borrowed from: Tiziano Scarpa


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