Day 79: Venezia

There's a faint hum of lapping wherever you walk, like a lullaby. Like the dream you have that sits as if it's honey on a spoon. Golden, sweet, hazy -- almost. You're stuck there. You don't care.

The fish market lingers, first in smell, then in sight. Your heels find a beat, then you stop. Maybe you can touch the bottom after all.

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