This is the penultimate evening of this year’s carnevale di Venezia, so it’s about time I finally did a post about it. So let me take a deep breath and begin… There are events in our life that take us inexplicably long time to get to. One such event for
“What’s your name?” he asked above the roar of the music. She leaned close. “My name is Wind,” she whispered. “And Rain. And Bone and Dust. My name is a snippet of a half-remembered song. I have no name,” she purred. “I am whoever the keepers of my fate tell
“Don’t you know that a midnight hour comes when everyone has to take off his mask? Do you think life always lets itself be trifled with? Do you think you can sneak off a little before midnight to escape this?” [Søren Aabye Kierkegaard]
“Everybody has a secret world inside of them. I mean everybody. All of the people in the whole world, I mean everybody — no matter how dull and boring they are on the outside. Inside them they’ve all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds… Not just one world. Hundreds
“We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be.” [Patrick Rothfuss “The Name of the Wind”]
There was a sound in the night. The sound of a crowd’s chatter that was so typical for a busy Venetian day on crowded tourist trails. Gaia frowned. Normally at this hour – and especially in winter – Venice and the most serene of silences were playing charades. Only some
Quadri della vita 
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