It was a stunning façade.

Venice covered up something that I did not realise until the third day of my visit. A beautiful courtesan will seduce you all night but when the first ribbon of sunshine appears, she disappears amongst the satin curtains of mystique. For me it was the opposite. Throughout the day, I was busy taking pictures, eating gorgeous food, talking to friendly locals and spending my time generally soaking in the city. And after midnight, when the musicians have gone home, the last tourist bus has whisked their passengers away and the restaurants are closed, there is an eeriness to the entire city. It is an empty labyrinth with numerous bridges and alleyways leading to dead ends. Fear heightens when there is literally no one to ask for directions and when you eventually sight someone, fear grows because you feel like it is a textbook horror story in which the oncoming person will slit your throat and steal your purse.

It was a Venetian theatrical production enacted daily and neatly packed away until the next morning.

The picture I have attached with this post is an interesting one. On my part, it was a conventional shot until I viewed it again. On one side of the picture is a row of tourists decked out eating in a posh restaurant and while on the other side there is a single gondolier languishing underneath the sun. The audience and actors keep changing between the tourists and the locals. We are constantly assessed and sized up by the Venetians  and at the same time as tourists we watch and look at them.

My foreignness awaited me in this foreign land. Yet, when I left all I took with me was postcards and pixelated version of Venice.

It was never mine to possess, not even a fraction of it. It is a Venetian mask that exists in countless versions and there is never a single right one for the carnival of life.