We had started to make a serious game for a Venetian alchemist. Then the game returned into the plot of a novel, which in turn would turn perhaps into a movie. We’ll deal with it this fall anyway.
The “Cafe Noir” in Venice, although not of necessity under my most favorite places of affinity, being a bit of damp squib is a comfortable lighthouse in the wet night. Entering, it will succeed in making feel you comfortable, yet sort of out of place and again cozy. Indoors it recalls me of Copenhagen, with all the black matchboard, and a bit of Hamburg, with the black, not genuine leather loveseat flanking the counter and London as in the Eyes Wide Shut’s fancy-dress and mask shop, with the soft neon lights pipes and points, which are in the Kubrick’s opus more of wacky lightings like quirk Christmas lights. But it is the exterior of the bar, once you have been inside and going out, as long as you stay for a moment there, but only for the kind of moments with the contemplative potential of a slow-moving jiffy, an epiphany of rare beauty reveals itself, that of being at the crossroad between perennity of time and contemporaneity at the same.