On the ground floor of the buildings, under the glass signs and the canopies, doors lead to restaurants, shops and workshops. The outdoor chairs submerged almost up to the seating, Julia hoisted herself up on a table just above the water level. Four boats were now in Campo dei Fiori, one of them had a mast taller than any bridge would allow. The sailors hoisted a sail to the mast and the sail swelled, pulling the boat ahead. As it reached the opposite side of the campo, the boat turned back on a zig zag path. Julia wiped the surface of the table dry, opened her sketchbook and began to draw what she saw. Some days so much happened she feared losing something, the facial expressions, the boats between the buildings, the women on the balconies, the children in the water. She drew the paths of the children with the ball and the paths of the boats, a child running, a man hoisting a sail, a woman as she pushed her hair back with a movement of the head, a pelican motionless in the air before diving, for a moment, into the water.