#06.09.16

[hanahzdenks]

[pagetgram]

“Will You Accept This Rose” Podcast with Arden Myrin

BE MORE LIKE MUSSOLINI w/ Rob Benedict and Paget Brewster (x) | listen

[pagetgram]

“Will You Accept This Rose” Podcast with Arden Myrin

BONUS EPISODE WITH CHRISTIAN BISHOP! (x,x,x,x,x) | listen

[hanahzdenks]

Như ngày đầu tiên!

[lilolilyrae]

My phone did a thing

[lilolilyrae]

Lilo&Stitch

[lilolilyrae]

[wreneuropeanwriting-blog]

06.09.16, Venice, Italy

Legends and Novels of all sorts have chronicled the strange tidings and events that have gone on in the city of Venice, the city of the lagoon. It is so connected to the water that it seems to float, and it appears as if it is separated from time itself. Getting to the city was a journey, an indirect route. Most people took a boat. From a tiny speed boat to large yachts, Venice was crawling in boats. The Lagoon was a brilliant green blue, strangely clear watered for the rumors on the cleanliness of Venetian waters and the state of the canals. But the water was clear and calm out in the lagoon, hugging the shallow sand bars that mounded up from out of the water. The lagoon was slightly choppy, buffeted by breezes and many boats criss-crossing from shore to shore, but it was far calmer than any unprotected ocean stretch. In the lagoon there were strange islands, walled up and having every appearance of being abandon except for the boats that occasionally moored there to explore them. The outposts had been overtaken with trees, and the brick was often in a state of crumbling. They were beautiful in the way that they seemed to be stylishly decaying, the ruins were picturesque and near perfection, like something an artist imagining a noble rot would create. These lonely islands washed by until the boats got to the shaky docks, ready to be moored and release the humans they carried into the narrow streets and alleys of the maze-like Venice The fronts of the streets that faced the waterway were decked with churches in the roman style, with pillars and statues of religious figures adorning their faces in white-gray marble. The human faces were demure or sorrowful, either looking to heaven or casting their gazes below, white eyes filled with pity. Trees thick with red blossoms lined the streets, and it was often that the music of street performers could be heard filtering through the air. The side alleys were narrow, with gaps in the roofs that were easily leap-able. The sandy stone paths always lead to water, canal ways and bridges that would lead to another islet separated from the rest of the city by the web of canals, choked with mosses and mussels. A city on the water, floating, sinking. It was like a dream or a fantasy from a novel. Truly a novel come to life in the form of a stony, precarious city.