From the Ponte dell'Accademia, Venice reveals itself in its rarest mood — stripped of the colour that made it famous, reduced to stone, water and silence. The Grand Canal stretches into a grey infinite, the palazzos fading into the overcast sky like a memory losing its edges. And then — the boat. A classic Venetian wooden tender, its warm mahogany hull the single point of colour in an otherwise monochrome world. Not placed there, not staged — simply passing through, indifferent to the poetry it was creating.