is old. Gentle. Soft…ly lit. The light in Venezia wraps around you like a silk scarf, softly and with a cool sweep. It kisses your skin with grace and whispers in your ear to stay for more. And I turn the corner and it’s dark. But the light meets me through the next turn and whispers to me again.
Turn yet another corner and wander astray.
Then I turn again and the light bounces off a window, a wall, a canal corridor…and I start to inch back to the softness, back to the Grace.
Cause even the harsh light that burns and cuts deep shadows into the folds–can be soft and sweet if we allow it. If we can help mold it; help ease it into our stories told.
All is Light. And Venice helped show me that.