Belmond Hotel Cipriani, Venice
Aman Venice, San Polo
Gritti Palace, Venice
Dear Lina—
Today in Burano the canal smells of salt and lemon, and my rented boat rocks beside the painted houses. At noon the water turned ink-black, and a silver key floated past my oar—still ticking. The men swore the key belongs to no house, yet every window shutter shut as if listening. I’m sending this before the bell in the alley starts ringing backward. Don’t laugh; the reflection shows us where we haven’t gone.
Yours,
Gianni
Pastel canals breathe,
Oars hush the sunlit water,
Bridges cradle hush,
