Photograph of Venice

3/03/2016


I was sorting out the photos that I had backed up on Google Photos and came across the junk of a folder that consisted of photographs that I took whilst I was in Italy back in 2014. I headed over there with my class that time, it was our last trip together as grade 11.


We had started off at Lake of Garda, then saw Rome, Florence, Pisa and eventually Venice. The last destination stayed in my mind for so many reasons, mostly small things that the artistic mind of mine appreciated about the aesthetically pleasing appearance of the dreamy town of Venice.

We, in groups, had no plan whatsoever. Our teachers had given us a map and with it, the destination where we would meet at the end of the day before we left Italy behind completely. Others were afraid they would get lost and miss the bus home, though we were thrilled. Excited. In love.

A completely foreign city with so much to see, so much art, so much emotion, even painted on the cracked borders of old empty buildings.

I stared a long time at the photograph above and only realized it after reminiscing about the day that we spent there, discovering beauty that had felt so far away once and was then right in front of our noses.

What a time to be alive, I remember thinking as we headed onwards without a plan or thought. What a time to keep walking and seeing. 

No, we didn't do anything crazy, other than listening to our own crazy ramblings, but the impressions that crashed over us in other forms of waves with each new bridge, each new alleyway we approached, was indeed crazy to us.

Unforgettable. An impact without an origin. Just the town, the lively people and the magic that lay above them.

Some say you should make the most of traveling to some place but even though we were just walking around, we felt completely content and fulfilled with the feet that hurt only a few hours in.

This sort of travelling is simple. But something I would definitely recommend to anyone. Be aware. Don't rush. Walk as slow as a tortoise because something can look so different from one angle to the other. Maybe don't even take the map and ask for the way in each corner to get in touch with people who actually live there. Maybe don't even look at the time and let the tiredness push you further. Maybe don't even go see the big attractions but end up in a local supermarket instead, like a local, to see the differences.

It was a photograph of Venice. And there was so much more behind it than I thought that it had me in its spell for ten minutes before I could scroll any further.

Did you ever have that overwhelming feeling of positive melancholy when looking at a photo from past trips?

Until then,
Arden

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