To Venice and the art of “la dolce vita”. Mastered
Venice is her; I knew that immediately as I took off the train coming from Bologna. She looked at me closely; squinting her eyes a little under the bright morning sun, examined me and slowly smiled. I blushed.
She was gorgeous, more gorgeous than I could have ever imagined. Nothing like an old lady stuck in the swamp of nostalgia for the past. Yes, she did wear those bright old fashioned colors, owned hundreds of those masks, hats and long gloves, but as I saw her, I knew immediately that fashion or time as a concept had nothing to do with Venice. Venice was timeless. And DAMN ELEGANT.
So she lived it that way; above all the worries about future, regrets about past, just slowly lingering every moment, every bite , every sip and smiling mysteriously watching people rush through life. She lived it as if time did not matter, as if she had hew full share of intrigues, romance, struggles, as if she has seen it so many times, that it only bored her; instead she stayed focused on what really mattered, on the art of “la dolce vita”. And yes, Venice has mastered it. And suddenly the time, the future, the past and even my troubles really did not matter, only “la dolce vita” did. Hence, the toast;)
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