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November 2022

-  Venice at Night  -

Venedig bei Nacht

These were days beyond the ordinary. We were immersed in a stream of people that surged over the bridges and squares, through churches, palaces and museums, crowded over narrow footbridges and formed a throng not only in front of the water taxi stops. In the multilingual murmur of voices, we were both almost speechless. "Quite a lot of people," my daughter Xira moaned. I nodded and rolled my eyes. No wonder. Everyone I knew had been to Venice at least once. The city seemed to breathe through and for tourism.


On the last evening, Xira took the boat back to our accommodation alone. I stayed at St. Mark's Square to paint another picture on the shore and chose as a motif the large, black gondolas that lay tied up there overnight. The darker it got, the quieter it became around me. And soon it became so quiet that all I could hear was the lapping, gurgling and smacking of the shallow waves. They washed around the wooden piles supporting the lagoon city as they always had.


Many years before, I had given my first history presentation on Venice at school. Even then, it seemed to me that I would have to hurry to see this beautiful city before it fell. Now, on the spot, I had a feeling that I had indeed arrived too late. But fortunately, that night my imagination kept me company: it made the city's lively past appear to me once again as I had imagined it when I was fifteen. I sat painting a still picture – and Venice with all its tourists would only come to life again the next morning.

 

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