So many masks in the window looked solemn that Mea had to smile. She chose a small burgundy one with pale edges. It had a short handle and promised a little mystery without complicated explanations. For a while, she decided, she could be a mysterious lady. Venice seemed quite ready for such a small game.
Illustrated fiction inspired by original Travel2City photographs. The places come from separate journeys, not a one-day itinerary. Characters, dialogue, props and some composition and lighting are artistic interpretations.
The blue window frame held a small gathering of unfamiliar expressions. Some masks frowned; others seemed to know something Mea had yet to discover. Hers fitted comfortably in her hand. She held it against her dress and tilted her head. In the glass, her own smile appeared among all those solemn faces. It seemed the greatest troublemaker in the window. She decided to leave it uncorrected for now.
“One small mystery, please. Without the solemn expression.”
Beside a terracotta facade, she raised the mask to her eyes. The stone lion above the gate remained entirely composed, despite acquiring an exceptionally mysterious visitor. Mea tried a slow turn of her head, then another, slightly more distinguished one. It would have been convincing if the corners of her mouth had not begun to rise beneath the mask. The lion did not move. Mea conceded the contest for the most serious expression and laughed softly.
On the bridge, she lowered the mask. The narrow canal offered a long ribbon of light and gently crumpled reflections between the houses. No perfectly serious face could survive in them for a moment. Mea rested her forearm on the stone parapet and watched the water. She enjoyed the game, and enjoyed even more how easily she could leave it. No different woman waited behind the mask. It was still her, with a new reason to smile.
Beside the gondolas, she sat down and laid the mask on her lap. The blue boat covers barely moved while the water continued its own conversation beneath them. Mea no longer needed to rehearse an expression. She sat, breathed and felt happy. The burgundy mask was a lovely souvenir, but it had also reminded her of something ordinary: pretending for a while can be delightful. Returning contentedly to yourself can be even better.
“I need not be mysterious any longer. Content will do.”
From notebook to book
The Map with No Last Page
Travel2City journeys continue between the covers of a book. Discover our illustrated travel world.
The mask belonged to Venice. The smile was entirely mine.
She put the mask carefully into her bag and left the smile outside. It did not crease at the next bridge, or even when she became uncertain of the way again.
