Venice is not a city, because a city stands on stones and bricks. Venice is a dream; a Sunday morning dream which you watch half awake, groggily praying for sleep to come back to your arms and carry you to that beautiful world of impossibilities.
Venice- with its innumerous bridges arching over the turning and twisting canals seems more like a fantasy than a reality. Its beauty is surpassed only by that feeling of intense joy you get when you are sitting in your apartment room, with the windows wide open, and the cool wind blowing the curtains and bringing along the aroma of the sea water. The smell of the sea which you always long for in your city office; which always reminds you of the beach trips you took as a kid. When you are sitting by that window sill, smoking your cigarette absent-mindedly, watching the smoke swirl and rise in the humid air; while a gondolier is maneuvering his way through the narrow lanes, singing a song of love and hope. A couple sitting with their arms intertwined, lost in the melody of the song and in each other’s company. The song which you cannot comprehend, but you know, is being sung for the love of one’s life. It speaks of the undying love, of the sparks of the first kiss, of the promises of staying together till eternity.
Travelers can capture the physical beauty of Venice in their photographs, but its magic stays only in your heart. You can visit all the monuments in and around Venice, pray in all of its churches and cathedrals, and sip a steaming cup of cappuccino at every café, but you still might not feel that you have seen all that Venice has to offer. Oh Venice, by coming to you, I have truly become yours.
"A realist, in Venice, would become a romantic by mere faithfulness to what he saw before him." ~Arthur Symons
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