A
city low on nightmares (though with a fondness for mythological
monsters), of dreamlike beauty, of love and betrayal, of rumour.
Twilit and dangerous, described as having damp, cold, narrow streets
through which one might get lost, or find oneself in an abandoned
palazzo, which must surely be a Venetian principle, just as
honeymooners in gondolas are another. A
city of dust, of time, of fog. A city ceased to be seen, that in
winter chooses invisibility, all the while crying (in an echo of
JB's) “Depict me! Depict me!”
Picture credit: Venice with the Salute, c.1840-1845, J M W Turner (source: WikiArt).
See
Watermark: An Essay on Venice by Joseph Brodsky.
Written June 2022.
