I receive an awkward waft from the canals. It soon passes. An array of reds, golds and even blues circulate the streets as 'carnavale' begins. I have no written in English in so long, it almost feels disjointed. Although, it seems more of a relief not to be judged by on lookers, by-passers, as they make snickering comments on my work. Although now I feel less exposed. Does it truly matter if I lack any sensical order? I am living my dream. Teaching and living, loving, in Europe. I must say my French and German have significantly improved and my italian has become primal nature. Amo la citta`, la gente, la vita. A page seems all i muster for one night. Sylvia is waiting for me, although I could possibly write until 3a.m.
Buona notte,
Deven
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