Do you remember when you took me to the city of love? 
Could this water theatre magically accommodate the fantastic scenario that I imagined:

The Serene, built on a group of 118 islets in the middle of the lagoon began at the end of the 13th century to cover themselves with palaces, to adorn themselves with oriental carpets, silks, brocades and velvet. The Mamluk sultans, recognizable by their tall paper-stuffed, headdresses edged with fur exercise, their oriental domination. Venetian merchants and traders prosper.

Venice attracts, everything here converges in illusion, miracle and the emergence of fascination. Today Venice still knows how to recognize lovers, survivors of an infamous sentimental tornado. Playful and formidable, she delights in inviting legal and illegitimate couples masked or exposed. This carnival of actors and this choreography of role-playing games suit him perfectly. Venice has fun captivating with its paintings, where one succumbs to charm.

  • To sink into romanticism by buckling on the lagoon of immortality, between the Opéra-Comique and the Théâtre-Lyrique. 
  • To feed excessively the pigeons which transform you into perches. 
  • To kiss a statue that flourish you as soon as you approach. 
  • To meet princes and enshrined heirs, dressed in their most beautiful pageantry.
  • To admire the Murano glassware: from the small colorful octopus with globular eyes to the chandeliers whose thousands of facets dazzle and make you dizzy.
  • To cross the bridge of sighs, the bridge of the unfortunate who connected the Ducal palace to the prison where prisoners who had just been tried, crossed it groaning and looking for the last time at the sky and the sea. 

Venice is a haven of chance, furtive meetings or reunions. We embrace, relax and let go too. But she remains madly feminine as she surprises, so much she winds in the tortuous labyrinths where women wear or not their mask according to their role as mistress, favorite or legitimate. We will return to this unique, mythical city, this city of artist but rather in winter when the cold will have driven the flow of visitors. 

You will be my hero, my doge for one day, in this theatrical city where the senses play the tragicomedy.

To be continued