“Would you like to remain in Venice forever?”
I bite my lips.
“Oh, no, but I would love to live here for an entire winter.”
“And what would you do?”
“Every night I will walk in Piazza San Marco, at that moment when the silence becomes so permeable that my steps can be heard from the moon. In the heated, mysterious, thrilling nights of the carnival I will change mask after mask, dress after dress, smile after smile, pain after pain, lover after lover. Every morning I will mix essences of perfumes, seeking for the very one that can revive the mystique of my body, intoxicate my soul, empower my mind. Every twilight I will dive in the coolness of the Adriatic Sea; my body shivering, my soul revived; my memory of him forever gone. In the night I will go to consult astrologer after astrologer in the less known quarters of the city.”
The sound of a church bell tears apart the moist air.
He looks at me: blue eyes, dark hair; powerful voice.
“Tonight there is party at the Doge’s Palace. Would you like to come with me?”
“I am not going to parties anymore.”
“I died long time ago, by mistake. Now I am just a Venetian mask.”
For a moment he looks flabbergasted.
excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers
@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M)
image: Mohammadreza Zeidabadi; Shutterstock; [link]