A Room with a View
We have a room with a view!
On our first night in Venice I sit at the open window – looking, listening, still. And then I reach for my camera. Perhaps this view (this sentiment) can be captured in a drawing. Shutter clicks follow.
Sounds of lapping water drift upward. Distant voices from figures on the bridge float on the air, echoing between stone. It has been raining; maybe it still is – [I can’t remember]. The buildings are lace silhouettes, their white lights reflect on black water.
(“E.M Forster, I’m borrowing your novel title for my drawing. Is that OK with you?”)
The following three nights I hardly glance outwards as I flit about the room. I am already used to the view – desensitized. Isn’t that a peculiar thing about human nature…