Venice. Rainy Venice in November.
I set foot on St Mark´s Square on Friday afternoon. Just as daylight was finally fading, a five-man band featuring accordion, bass guitar, clarinet, piano and violin was striking the end note of its version of “What a Wonderful World” when all of a sudden, the piazza lit up. There was a spontaneous echo of “aaaws” and “aaahs” produced by all tourists lucky enough to have been present at the moment. And that was one of the most beautiful moments I’ve experienced lately, one of those that makes me feel grateful for all my fully functional senses, and for being alive. Wandering the venetian streets under the rain, being exposed to tradition, history, architecture to that extent every once in a while, I deem as absolutely necessary to keep a realistic, out-zoomed perspective on everyday life; to help contextualize one´s individual life with its glories and struggles within the fabric of overall human experience, history and its proper place in time and space. Special mention to that Orient Express flavour ice cream, which felt like tasting Christmas itself.
What a wonderful world it is, indeed.
