I’ll admit it straight off; there were times today where being in Venice seemed like a bizarre abstract notion, like it wasn’t really real, and all the stress and the phone calls (and all the “Can you speak English?”s) and all of that were just trials I had to go through to test my patience or something, and there wasn’t really an outcome to it. Even wandering through London this afternoon, killing time between flights, it didn’t feel like anything that unusual. And the plane here I just felt lost and thed different with a sense of history about it (compared to Aberdeen… I mean, come on), drifting through places with exotic names. Without realizing it, I’d disappeared from real life and started living in a film after all. Gondoliers went past, singing, and it’s not often you can say that. Add to that the fact that sheer luck led me to ask a complete stranger (who turned out to be French) the way to my hotel, and she took me to the very door, and you know I’ve been pretty blessed.
I’ve found something called Kind of Hush, which was a travel diary I wrote back in 1999 from a trip I took to Venice. Re-reading it, I realized that it was my first paid journalism; I wrote it to fulfill a grant I’d been given by the Scottish Arts Council to visit that year’s Venice Biennale. Because I’ve been thinking, endlessly, about Kindle Singles and digital ebooks a lot lately, I’m re-working this (Trying to find the missing text from the file I found this weekend) with an eye of putting it out there for 99 cents just because. I doubt anyone would buy it, but I just like the idea of it being out there.



