Windy sky above the clouds, both planes rattled like fodder. Venice was cold and rainy like washed away makeup, but here the air sparkles at dusk. Listening to cruel, rumbling cries of waves shudder into foamy, carressing strokes which wrap around to hug, I came to see that during this whole trip, through a mind hazy, quiet and downcast, among strangers, I had been looking inside myself at our rapture.