venice in winter. oh yes!
and all because i happened upon THIS. that's when i knew.
and to prepare i already have my very own dog-eared copy of joseph brodsky's WATERMARK on my nightstand.
with this passage marked:
Hence my sentiment for water, for its folds, wrinkles, and ripples, and – as I am a Northerner – for its grayness. I simply think that water is the image of time, and every New Year's Eve, in somewhat pagan fashion, I try to find myself near water, preferably near a sea or an ocean, to watch the emergence of a new helping, a new cupful of time from it. I am not looking for a naked maiden riding on a shell; I am looking for either a cloud or the crest of a wave hitting the shore at midnight. That, to me, is time coming out of water, and I stare at the lace-like pattern it puts on the shore, not with a gypsy-like knowing, but with tenderness and with gratitude.
This is the way, and in my case the why, I set my eyes on this city.