Venice
Venice was my favourite place.
It seems like madness to build so much on a tiny scrap of land, but the Venetians were fearless in a way modern architects can never be
Venice was my favourite place.
It seems like madness to build so much on a tiny scrap of land, but the Venetians were fearless in a way modern architects can never be
The rooftops of Venice
The canals of Venice
I feel like I lived here in another life, jumping from bridge to bridge and leaping from roof to roof.
Lots of people, pigeons everywhere, phone to call internationally at the top of the tower, gondola rides, doors that opened into the canals from houses that were built hundred of years ago, the courage it must have taken to build these buildings on a network of tiny muddy islands, the huge cruise ship, gelato, the book binding man, the North Africans and their rip off bags that look great, but you can get busted 2000 Euros if the police catch you buying one, cold drinks, too much heat, gondoliers balancing and shouting to one another, the Merano glass and the glass blower who wore extremely tight clothing and blew glass, handling it like a well practiced lover, my beautiful azure glass heart, a boat ride through the S canal, imagining what it must be like to see Venice underwater, imagining what two big gates to block out the sea would look like, pondering the thought of Venice becoming a dead city with the only industry being tourism, plotting and planning my return in the winter to ghost through the streets reliving something and imagining I might stealth over Venetian rooftops once more...
Long bus ride, rubbish flowing through the streets of Paris on the way to the Moulin Rouge, the fact that I am never sure to spell it "Moulin Rouge" or "Moulin Rogue" which are two very separate things, the talking dog, the acrobatics, the fancy costumes and bare breasts of the dancers, the tiny tables and cramped space, the huge line of people for the second show, the Louvre with its Da Vinci-esque pyramids upside down upright, the crowds of people, the incessant photographs, the irritating Mona Lisa, the unfinished works of Michaelangelo who I am sure would be horrified to have works in progress exposed to the prying eyes of tourists (this is how I would feel if people considered my first drafts of stories to be genius...how embarrassing) but whose works nonetheless look like they are resigned to life half out and half imprisoned in the marble, the Eiffel Tower with its views of Paris, Duncan McLeod's houseboat, walking down the steps of the Eiffel Tower after the most irritating man, buying a pink scarf emblazoned with PARIS, buying my pink bag and some pink nougat at the Louvre, the candles in Notre Dame, the life of Quasimodo (who only lived in Victor Hugo's head, but if I was deformed and had to live in a bell tower, I would choose the bell tower of Notre Dame), the new altar with its new age 12 apostles who looked very out of place, the weird hot dog in a bun with cheese on it from the vendor, crepes and ice cream with Lorna and Carlos, almost buying a Dior purse, seeing the Eiffel Tower lit up late at night and flashing its sparkling lights happily, taking a cruise on the river and watching the city of Paris light up.
I understand why people love Paris. I didn't think I would love it, but a part of me does. What can I say? It's Paris!
Lots of people, pigeons everywhere, phone to call internationally at the top of the tower, gondola rides, doors that opened into the canals from houses that were built hundred of years ago, the courage it must have taken to build these buildings on a network of tiny muddy islands, the huge cruise ship, gelato, the book binding man, the North Africans and their rip off bags that look great, but you can get busted 2000 Euros if the police catch you buying one, cold drinks, too much heat, gondoliers balancing and shouting to one another, the Merano glass and the glass blower who wore extremely tight clothing and blew glass, handling it like a well practiced lover, my beautiful azure glass heart, a boat ride through the S canal, imagining what it must be like to see Venice underwater, imagining what two big gates to block out the sea would look like, pondering the thought of Venice becoming a dead city with the only industry being tourism, plotting and planning my return in the winter to ghost through the streets reliving something and imagining I might stealth over Venetian rooftops once more...
Paris
Long bus ride, rubbish flowing through the streets of Paris on the way to the Moulin Rouge, the fact that I am never sure to spell it "Moulin Rouge" or "Moulin Rogue" which are two very separate things, the talking dog, the acrobatics, the fancy costumes and bare breasts of the dancers, the tiny tables and cramped space, the huge line of people for the second show, the Louvre with its Da Vinci-esque pyramids upside down upright, the crowds of people, the incessant photographs, the irritating Mona Lisa, the unfinished works of Michaelangelo who I am sure would be horrified to have works in progress exposed to the prying eyes of tourists (this is how I would feel if people considered my first drafts of stories to be genius...how embarrassing) but whose works nonetheless look like they are resigned to life half out and half imprisoned in the marble, the Eiffel Tower with its views of Paris, Duncan McLeod's houseboat, walking down the steps of the Eiffel Tower after the most irritating man, buying a pink scarf emblazoned with PARIS, buying my pink bag and some pink nougat at the Louvre, the candles in Notre Dame, the life of Quasimodo (who only lived in Victor Hugo's head, but if I was deformed and had to live in a bell tower, I would choose the bell tower of Notre Dame), the new altar with its new age 12 apostles who looked very out of place, the weird hot dog in a bun with cheese on it from the vendor, crepes and ice cream with Lorna and Carlos, almost buying a Dior purse, seeing the Eiffel Tower lit up late at night and flashing its sparkling lights happily, taking a cruise on the river and watching the city of Paris light up.
I understand why people love Paris. I didn't think I would love it, but a part of me does. What can I say? It's Paris!
2 comments:
Beautiful pictures! It seems like a place you could really be creative in.
Great pictures! Venice in winter - cold, very very cold. Trust me, I about froze! It wasn't very crowded, can't imagine going in the summer, but boy was it...did I say cold?
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