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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required they told me in my dream of Venice last night when I was sweating and striving to see your exclusive city, from my redundant life of tedious happenings and responsibility. Crowds with nicer suitcases, women with beautiful beige clothes and effortless beauty are whisked aboard without a blink of hesitation. The river welcomed them and flowed back from me. My bags were heavy, awkward to carry and torn from uncompleted travels. I wanted to see more than the limits of accessibility. I remember scuba diving in the Dominican Republic. The fish still swim for me in my imagination, quietly and vividly. I thought that if I smiled, the gondolier would consider not poverty, but my modest and honest acknowledgement, and there would be room for one more little lady. He might wave away the payment for charity, and hold out a hand to steady my boarding. There are many quiet, good women in your loud and rushing world. I was merely hungry for Italian food in a bloated sphere of burgeoning vanity. I just want to see what makes your city extraordinarily rich in history and exclusive love. Some heavens are inaccessible to people like me and the last boat left ten minutes before my rushing arrival to the next gondolier. . Save a scoop of melting gelato for me to taste in better dreams tomorrow. I was always "a mental traveler." At least my distant relative once said so, and I admire her travels.
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