Still looking for Vence images...these aren't the ones I need for a specific project but I like them. Through the eyes of the same photographer (Tony M. of Vence, France). Black & white; sepia filter/dusk; washed-out pale with blue, window detail. A café. Computer continues on edge of nervous breakdown, so pictures for now. And writing, off-line.Note: Check out English Muse's The girl with the pink gloves today. I left a comment but have more to say here later. Riffing on someone else's stuff? Kind of a virtual mini-workshop, in my experience. xo.
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It's not Venice's fault, but I heartily disliked this city.
I was there in April, so it was not even moderately warm; mostly gray and damp. We lugged our luggage up and down narrow, dirty streets in search of our hotel - only to find out that the address on the travel agent's form was wrong. Off we go again - crossing bridges and rounding yet another corner - to end up in a room the size of a pantry alongside a bathroom the size of a cabinet looking out onto a dingy wall on the other side of a garbage-strewn canallette.
I was with the wrong man. One who would inevitable reek havoc on my life.
I guess all of Venice's maudlin beauty in the days to come was a fitting precursor to the destruction to come.
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