Perhaps it was a dream, of course, I had a dream about this hot July day trip to the city of gondolas, Murano glass, poems of Joseph Brodsky, carnivals, masks, Bridge of Sighs, Casanova. I sat on the steps of the house in the square Goldoni and did not eat hot pizza, bought nearby Rialto Bridge. I do not substitute face green splashes of water from the old paddle, lean gondolier. I do not. I do not. Me...
It was a dream. |
