This city, it was a wonder. The blue tint of the water reflected a rippling image of myself, back to me, back dropped with a sea of blurry, storm tossed faces. I leaned over the white marble baluster of the arching bridge, my hands crossed, palms flat against the cool, worn smooth stone.

Shifting the weight of my body from one foot to the other I tilted my head up, and watched the sky. Twilight was firing the sky amazing hues of color that only an artist could accurately name. Flaming reds, ember oranges, snapdragon fuchsias, and burnt yellows. The farther you looked away from the burning, sinking sun, the darker the colors, until they blended perfectly into the dark navy, spotted with the bright silver of early stars, all burning along on the carpet of time. I spotted Polaris and Sirius immediately, they are always the first stars I always spot in the night sky. I spent a good five minutes staring up at it, looking for answers to all my questions amoung those bright lights.

I returned my gaze to the canal, scanning it. At regular intervals, lights on tall, haggard dark wooden posts along the tall stone walls of surrounding sidewalks, and buildings, along which boats were docked, all near wooden boards leading to stairs chisled into the stone. Those boats came in all shapes, sizes and colors, everything from sapphire to emerald to ruby to pearl. The light cast warm sandy yellow onto the azura water, and they illuminated all that was around them.

I scanned the buildings along the waters gently lapping sides, and marvled at the smiple beauty of this city. Each building had a unique style, some with roman styled stone work, and painted every color in the rainbow. Those buildings had one thing in common though, they belong to people who loved the look of this canal. People that understood the right to stand out and blend in at the same time.

This city of marble, stone, and glass, built on water instead of dirt, with the canals in the stead of highways. Our city, this city I call home, with it's artists flair, and its stubborness to survive. All the blown glass in the world, and lions as it's holy protector. The archangels watched from St. Mark's, bestowing it with so much grace. Then I remember why I loved it.

But here, on this bridge, amoung the lapping water and the alabaster marble, I almost forgot why the world rushed, why it seemed to never slow down. I wanted to slow down. I did slow down, just to watch, and to see, but not to think, a beautiful change from normal life.

With one last scan of this magnificent spot, I turned and rejoined the sea of blurred faces. Never to stop, to watch, again. This moment will be frozen into the jumbled filing cabnit of my thoughts, memories, and ideas. To be looked back apon remembered, and charished. Because the world only stands still for a person when they least expect it. When the simple beauty around them is noticed for the first time, not over looked.

This city, it will always be the city of enlightenment. I know this. Not may do. I know this because it made me stop, and stare, and notice. I hope that it will stand still a moment more, just so that my head can process. But no, I guess the point is to not process, but to simply charish. I move on, way from the colors, sounds, and lights, home now. To sleep and dream of simple beauty.