I was an unannounced visitor. The city existed in my mind but I did not know it yet.

My purpose is not to tell you minute by minute of what happened or what I did in Venice. I am writing to remind myself of the excitement and hesitation felt at meeting a new person. The shyness when looking them straight in the eye, the clichéd opening dialogue and the awkward body language: unsure and uneasy. I felt it all.

When you look at Venice, you will find it difficult to place it in the mould of a city. It has no walls, floors or ceilings. Instead, it has water rising high and going low. The streams of water channelled in the pipes of the city are like the arteries and veins of a pulsating human body. The water changes colour underneath the rays of the majestic sun which was extremely reluctant to come out during my visit. It was unrealistically sea-green. Where the water met the stone buildings there were heavy locks of mermaid’s hair floating on surface. Water was used to go somewhere, meet someone or do something. In Venice it was never contained, never understood. It was choppy or calm as it pleased.

At every glimpse and glance, Venice changes like a seasoned courtesan. Her gait shifts to pleasure the steady gaze of admiration. From every angle, I was in awe. The simple lines of the Campanile stand tirelessly tall amidst the Romanesque carvings of the St Mark’s Church. It is a musical note for the eyes. It helps that there is no sound of motor engines, only people and pigeons. People are everywhere. Locals and tourists. Buying and selling. Photographers and their subjects. Lovers and their public kisses. Motley of languages and accents. They all merge together to form a moment in the time sequence of Piazza San Marco.