We Wore Wellingtons in Venice

There is something about the gloom of these storm-ready skies this afternoon that is making me anxious. It is similar to days in Venice when the alarm for acqua alta would sound in the morning, alerting the city that by evening we would be walking on raised platforms and sweeping water from our doorways. Those days were electric: I've always had a hard time expressing it, but the acqua alta was so alive to me. I mean, I felt like living, like seeing what could happen in the world, as if I finally understood deeply that there was something worth seeing.

Today the hint of rains is not as electrifying, but similarly anxiety-producing. Less like there is something worth seeing, and more as if there is something to see, and I am missing it.