Send me to Venice, that singular city, built in a golden lagoon on stilts by refugees fleeing Roman armies using ingenious labyrinths and eerie stone passages connected by footbridges and statue-adored piazzas that demand walking or piloting a boat.
I'll maneuver dead-ends, just short of lost
among granite faces, cooing pigeons, capricious mimes, and walls where there were storefronts the day before.
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