Remembering Mama Dore ...

Wandering through the rainswept calles of the Castello, in search of a bar with jazz, I lingered in the Corte Michiel, remembering the first time I'd stayed in Venice - 

Richard and I had found a room off a courtyard like this - I recalled looking up, to see a small square of blue, a reef of windows reaching up to the sky - 

We'd travelled by train across a midnight Europe - 

Dazed and wide eyed, we'd been led by a smiling rogue to Mama Dore's - 

Mama Dore lay upon a sofa in her dimly lit lounge, before an immense TV - the faces of soap opera stars would dissolve into bright swirling dots on the screen - 

Richard said women hissed like cats upon the bridges - I'd felt the very first chill of sadness upon my neck - 

I stood here now, listening to voices coming from the shuttered rooms - 

My shirt was wet with rain - it was very late - the lights in the court held back the shadows - 

19 August 2015

The Corte Michiel

Sestiere Castello

Venice