Sunday, September 3

Sitting outside a cafè in Murano almost inevitably seems to mean sitting looking at the sea, since almost all of Murano that I have seen so far faces the sea.

I sit outside a café watching a bird (a heron, perhaps) sitting and gently swinging on a rope.

I have not looked yet to see the name of the café and I probably won’t since the island seems small enough to describe anything without resorting to names or addresses.