Venezia adagio. L’altra faccia della città cartolina

Compared to the rest of the world, Venice is slow. Of course. The city’s rhythm of life is set by the water, and each person’s pace by the fact that they can rely almost only on their own legs. A slowness claimed by the residents themselves, boldly aware of living in an extraordinary place and unmoved by the logic of tackling everything with great – very great – calm. The Venice I want my reader to discover is born of this spirit – going beyond the dazzling, more immediate beauty – with the hope of helping people to catch some of those aspects that make the city and its lagoon unique places. And it was born from long pauses at the window of my kitchen, looking out onto the canal; made up of returns from the beach, sun-reddened, and thick fog in the calli; of ‘oè’ shouted early in the morning; of voices too loud and silences profoundly deep; of trips by boat, on foot and by bicycle; of swims in the ghebi and scorching dunes; of fritters, artichokes, schie and masanette; of slow walks along the Zattere, to Sant’Elena and through the islands; of days when water fell from the sky and rose up from the ground; of snow and masegni; of Redentore festivals on boats and over rooftops; of lagoon, sea and hinterland.