At the station I bought a ticket to La Spezia. It sunk in, at last, that I was in Italy. I felt full of power and confidence. The receptionist was right: "What a night ..."
La Spezia left little room for hesitation. A tall fence of dusty bushes grew in front of the station, and beneath it, the harbor was panting as a whale and occasionally exhaled geysers of smells, shouts and rusty screech.
Corsica shrunk into a soiled, unsent postcard.
Indeed, the purpose was achieved , or yet it rather self-appeared, and I was reluctant to find myself again pounding in self-queries and why would I, having opened all windows of every musty fortress and letting the fresh air flow in, stand in its way and resume circling around in the chase of my very own shadow?
I went back to the cashier and inquired about the first train to the nearest big city.
" In fifteen minutes to Venice , in forty to Rome," I could hear from behind the window.
I set out to Venice.
I'd been there before with my parents and brother when I was a little child, but I had no memories of that time. Except for the pigeons. I had exciting fantasies immersed in haze and burning sun, salty air and profound,intricate mystery.The fuzzy silhouettes of Jacomo Casanova, Lorenzo de Ponte and Antonio Vivaldi.The even less distinct outlines of Doges' informants, of agile gondoliers wearing carnival masks.A smell of fish in the dusk-embraced sultry city. As I was conjuring up images , I was not quite far from the truth,and yet I didn't have a clue of how the city was about to bind its spell to me. It would grip me and never let me go.
I jumped off the train at Santa Lucia train station, and as soon as I came out of the building, I simply groaned. Without any warning, like a flash of fireworks, the majestic city blazed in front of me. It was eleven o'clock at night. The city nodded for welcome , Canale Grande was shaking its head as if wondering why it had taken so long, and to the left, Ponte degli Scalzi, was beckoning for me to step forward, everything was at the ready. I couldn't help but sit down on the stairs and wait until my racing heart calmed its beat and I was able to take a breath.
I stayed in the city for three days. And it hardly mattered if I were nude, or Venice had one of her comic masks imprinted on my face. I was happy. I was in love.

I fell in love with the city. I I am not going to, and I don't want to narrate about those three days. It was a heady wedding night. On San Marco square, I felt drunk with the sea and let myself be drifted along...