Travelogue: Venezia

“Drink the wine, its watered down.”
I am giving mass at our breakfast table. She takes a sip, perhaps imbibing a molecule or two before making a face. I sigh realizing that these sour grapes are mine alone to enjoy and take a bite of the freakish cooked cream concoction brought to me. I drink too much and discuss Love. Love. A footnote in your autobiography. A long footnote in your autobiography. I do the characteristic rubbing of my nose in the midst of deep thought and my hands smell like shit. Tomorrow we go to Venezia, the city of liebestod. The city where eunuchs became gods, and no one knows the difference between life, death, or love.