"Ragazo." It was scrawled on the wall at the far end of the campo, the spelling off, but with an unmistakable sigh of hearts floating up like thought bubbles above the word. "Boys."
I remember that swoony feeling and I feel it still. For boys? Yes, of course. How I do love men. So incredibly different than we are that I can never get over it. But what about for...Venice?
It fascinates me too. And I can't stop thinking about it. I write its initials over and over in my mind. But as I am an adult now, or adult enough, I also want to take the lines of light and shadows in these photos and trace them like on a love's skin until it prickles.
You see? Not entirely innocent, my affections. But neither is the object of my interest. And that is what makes sense to me, someone who also owns their fair share of shadows and light.
They call her La Serenissima. The Serene One. And I understand the feminine imagery, the annual marriage to the sea, the canals slicing through the parcels of land. The architecture pink with delicate Ottoman openings as if of strings to be untied.
And yet to me, Venice is very masculine. Just the type of man that I like actually. One that is so well in his own skin that he doesn't have to put on a show. Nor be feared, like the vagaries of the Council of Ten in the past. Face-forward present, yes. A mystery too.
You see, I don't really know him at all. I don't even speak his language. And yet I miss him. Que bello ragazzo.
I wonder when I will see him again...
So what do you think? Should we launch a Kickstarter fund to send me back? Start researching grants and the like? I am such a dreamer. Do I chase this particular dream or stay still and let it chase me?
Passa un buon fine settimana...