In ancient times people built peculiar street pattern like a labyrinth to confuse the invaders. Venezia’s maze of narrow streets has the same effect to deter the modern day tourists, but only to a certain degree. Global warming and the growing tourism are both sinking the islands on different levels. It’s only during the wee hours that one can start to feel the heartbeat of the old city when it resurfaces from a cloud of perfume.
And to me, this bridge represents the heart of the city. No one seems to know which backstreets connect to either end of it. No gondola glides beneath it. The bridge seems so exposed yet private, so close yet so far. I don’t know how many true Venetians still inhabit the city, but I imagine there’s one of them guarding this bridge like the oldest and fondest memory.