It's been several months since our Italy trip, bit I still dream of Venice almost every night. When I'm asleep, I'm wandering the tiny streets, walking over canals, sitting outside wine bars and findig restaurants in dark alleys. I'm running breathlessly over bridges with my friends, all of us drunk on wine and wearing elaborate masquerade masks, and there is this wonderful pervading feeling of restless exhaustion, moving for the simple sake of the joy of movement, no matter how long previously I've been moving, no matter how tired I am, just because moving feels too good to stop.
I smiled to myself when I was at Trader Joe's last. They sell a frozen torte dessert called "Dreaming of Venice". I didn't pick it up; we don't do sweets at our house, but I hope the concoctor (Is that a word? You know, meaning "one who concocts"?) behind this treat took a similar trip to mine and suffers the same affliction, where they wake up each morning and can't get that city out of their head.