At the crisp hour of seven on a winter’s morning, I arrived in Venice. The city was eerily empty and quiet in its waking hours. As I wandered through wispy fog, I caught a glimpse of its timeless charm: a baker arranging brioche behind a golden window front, a pair of painters repairing flaking pastel…
"Fuck Air BnB".
"Tourists go home".
Confronting messages sprayed across crumbling brick walls on the outskirts of Venice put a pit of guilt in my stomach.
Oh. Sorry.
Venice was not somewhere I'd ever really desperately wanted to go. I'd read more about the city's issues with rising sea levels than the best sights…