today

It's very cold here in Venice, we've closed the gallery windows because the icy air blasting through them makes us feel like our limbs have turned to stone.

The palazzo feels more like an interior now though, something contained, whereas before it felt, like the artist described, a bit like a landscape blown through a building. The icy wind somehow continued this, scraping the waxy leaves eerily across the floor and carrying the voices from the street into the rooms around us.

I can't sit here and freeze though.

A blind lady came into the exhibition today, she had dark glasses on to cover her milky eyes, and her sister walked close by her, leading her across the uneven stones. I have to admit this frightened me more than it should have, but Venice has been acting up lately, thick fog and creaking whispering voices drift down the canals at night. It would hardly surprise me if I caught a glimpse of a little red coat, disappearing into a dark passageway, luring me to my untimely demise.