Gaia slides backwards, she reclines her head back and closes her eyes, her hair straight over her shoulders. When she opens her eyes again the buildings are running away from her, she is raised above the water, high as someone looking out of the window on the first floor, above a high door, on a balcony, high above the water, but a moving balcony, a balcony running away from the city towards a direction that is behind her, unseen. All seems slower from the fishtrain, the movement of people who walk on fondamentas, the boatmen, the artisans restoring a building, everyone seems to move slowly, deeply entrenched with the job at hand.
Julia and Gaia are passing rapidly in front of the buildings, the people, the apartments, the conversations.
It is too fast, Gaia says, I cannot see well enough everything.
It gives you a glimpse of all and takes you away, Julia says. I can draw it all for you if you like.
Yes, says Gaia, please please do. I want to see it all, every detail of it.
I will, when we come back.