I have been to Venice many times, first as a child, then as an adult, always on vacation. It is a city that fascinates, because it is unique in its kind. A city among the most beautiful and fragile in the world. As a tourist, I have always visited the usual places. However, the last time I wanted to dedicate some time to the search for a more intimate and true Venice. The Venice of normality. The Venice at its awakening, disheveled and with eyes still full of sleep. Venice with its clothes in the wind.
On vacation with my wife and son, in 2013, on a hot and humid morning in August, I decided, therefore, to get up at the first light of dawn and go around alone in the hidden alleys.
The profile of the city began to emerge slowly from the lagoon trapped between the sea and the land, in the middle of the humid fog that enveloped it. I saw men loading a boat with newspapers. I peered into the cockpit of a boat, to see with the eyes of its commander, the routine of living a job immersed in the uniqueness of an extraordinary place. I listened to the normality of two conversations between local travelers. I saw a child playing ball. A woman who went fast from one house to another, protecting herself from the sun with an umbrella. An ethereal lifeguard behind one of the umbrellas that began to set up on the beach of Lido. A mime in the alleys, with his mute art, in search of the first smile of a new day.