Today I am, pictorially speaking, in Venice.
In that meditation Venice, where wandering through calli and squares with moments of unexpected serenity, without tourists and cameras.
For me Venice, in its melancholy beauty, is a fairground dream, where I feel poetic inspirations wherever I go.
"Venice dying, Venice resting on the sea, the sweet obsession of its last sad days, Venice sells it to tourists ..." So says a splendid song from 1981. I've1