Venetian Addiction

Nan McElroy has written that Venice isn’t a dream, it's a drug. And it’s true. I realize now that I'm addicted to Venice. I experience almost a euphoria of sensory overload when I'm here, and practically a crash when I leave...

Don’t get me wrong… There’s beauty in Maine, too. But it’s a kind of beauty that’s the exact opposite of Venice… Like that of Mainers themselves, its beauty is subtle and natural, quiet and a little desolate. A nice counterpoint to a city which redefines baroque, but still it’s rather a shock to the system when I get back. Almost like peace and quiet after a rock concert… a silence so powerful that it’s nearly deafening.

I find I’m different in Venice, too. I have an immediate hankering to write prose here, to desperately try to capture these rapid-fire, fleeting sensations before they evaporate forever. But it’s a losing battle from the start. Oddly enough, though I love the city from the bottom of my heart, my husband notes that I'm quieter and seem to be sadder in Venice than elsewhere, and maybe it’s true… I’m constantly reminded of everything that’s slipping through my fingers with the interminable passage of time… everything I struggle to share before its too late, but it’s always too late.

I guess you can never step twice into the same canal… :-)


planettom said...

I read the first chapter of that "The Secret Venice of Corto Maltese" book.

It's great; like a virtual walk through Venice. I'll have to get my big map out to follow along with the other chapters.

Interesting, it appears that Hugo Pratt actually lived along your alleyway!

Anonymous said...

RE: "Everything I struggle to share before it is too late, but it is always too late"

Ahhhh...It is NEVER too late!!!

There are so many things you have shared, things you are not even aware of. These things are greatly appreciated by many.