Think of Venice, think of Casanova, artist of love. He lived here for years until he was forced to flee after being imprisoned for years in the Doge’s Palace for committing  many ‘public outrages against the holy religion.’ No wonder he couldn’t stay away. When I’m in this incredible city I am immediately transported to Fellini’s set, the whole city a stage for great art in all it’s forms. The houses themselves float on the canals with no visible means of support, painted a thousand different colours, paint of centuries peeling revealing imbedded love notes written in venal blood. City of velvet and burgundy and lace, of Vivaldi and chandaliers exploding in Murano glass. City of violins where you are woken by the plash plash of canal water against the side of your building. Water city. Stage of dreams…