THE MASQUERADERS

Brilliant ghosts make stately progress
Over the bridges of Venice
In the chill, coppersmoke sunset
That settles on the waterfront
And inches up the Piazza San Marco.

But who are these butterfly visions
Gliding silently through wintry crowds?
Are they old or ugly, perhaps?
Famous or just plain nondescript
Beneath their anachronistic outfits?

Part of the architecture,
They gaze imperious
Through the frozen glamour
Of their chosen faces,
At a world, which –
If only for now –
Has them as its focus;
And it is we –
With our digital cameras –
Who seem out of place.

When they leave
The milling Carnevale of the square,
They pause along the way
To pose statuesque
On crests of bridges
With plumed and hooded heads
Inclined regally to one last lens.

Back in tired hotel rooms
Will they avoid mirrors
As their false faces
And flowing hired finery
Fall to the floor,
Showing listless moths
In dusty drapery
Who they really are?


(2002)



The Carnevale in Venice takes place every February as it has done for centuries. The masqueraders provide a surreal spectacle around the tourist hotspots and are even more dramatic if you encounter them sweeping around a corner in the back-streets away from the crowds.

Even in winter, Venice, although cold, is very bright and the quality of the light is like nowhere else. At night, it is very quiet and I was forever experiencing flashbacks to one of my favourite films, ‘Don’t Look Now’ (the only film to ever give me nightmares as an adult – thankfully we didn’t see any serial-killer dwarves in red hooded coats during our visits).

The light wasn't too great however, when I took this picture of a couple of those masqueraders on a bridge in Venice during our visit in 2002. It is kind of darkly atmospheric though...

FUERTEVENTURA

Afterwards,
As the wind rushes through the palms,
We sleep in each other’s warm arms
With your cooling breath on my face,
Far from home, in this island place;
And away
We slip into night’s strange fictions,
Beyond the hot, blue day’s actions,
Yielding to the Moon’s shifting sands,
Before tomorrow’s high commands
Are issued long before the noon;
So soon above wave, sky and dune.


(2011)


Fuerteventura – literally, the island of ‘strong winds’ – has wonderful white, sweeping beaches and bright blue sea much beloved by surfers. With its roiling riptides, it can however, be a perilous place and I nearly drowned there a few years ago. Nevertheless, we’ve just returned from another visit.

Those winds move the weather around quite dramatically and I took the picture on Corralejo beach after a sweltering day had changed in a trice to a dark, cloud-wracked evening.