October floods Venice. Sixteen years ago we
bought a house; I stopped watching television. Television I hear about in
conversation. One reason is that all day my computer can screen underwater films
of Venice, not just a news flash. Piazzas are ponds. Visitors sit at cafés in
their wellingtons, about to be served espresso and ice cream. Gondolas are
engulfed. I replay the rising tide, Venetians smiling resignation as their
passageways switch to canals. Television was a shared experience. There was one
flood report for everyone. October shares notes about the deluge of Venetian replays. Heirlooms float towards the
windows.
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