I sat low in the gondola, with the red upholstery beneath me and the black sides of the boat almost level with the water. There was a small sway from side to side, and after a while I stopped bracing for it. Under the bridge, the colours fell away. Then we came out into the sun, and the ochre and red façades appeared again, broken into long strips in the water. A little farther along, two masked passengers sat side by side in another boat. One turned toward the other. I remember how ordinary that small gesture seemed, even with the masks.

Along the waterfront, people in costume passed among people out for a walk. Under the arches, I saw two figures wearing leaves and bunches of grapes. When I saw them against a sunlit wall, I noticed how many shades of green there were in the leaves.

As I came closer, I began to notice smaller things. A string of pearls along the edge of a purple hat. A fleck of gold beside an eye. Under a wide white hat, a strip of black lace cast its own small shadow.

Near the water again, two figures stood by the railing. The sun caught the red feathers as one of them turned. I noticed the lifted chin, the way the shoulders stayed square even as the head turned. There was a quiet pride in the way they held themselves. They gave us time to look.

Beyond them, across the lagoon, the buildings were still in the light. It lay across the pale façades and picked out the curve of a dome. The posts along the railing were already dark. In the space between them, I could still see the sun on the far shore.