It’s a photographer’s nirvana.
They flock to the island of Burano each year in search of polychromatic ecstasy.
I too completed the quest. Drank abundantly of the hues on offer, yet I remained unintoxicated.
A creature of the coast I preferred to look offshore, to the great colourless expanse. To give priority to other senses; the cold on my cheek, the cry of gull, the ‘guloop’ of wavelets against hollow hull, the paper flutter of pigeon wing, the scent of washday soap, local sausage fried flat and doused in mustard.*
*Thanks to Antica Macerellia Gastronomia di Rosso Alsessandro for the day’s highlight!
- Island Brights – Burano’s colourful complexion (afothergillblog.wordpress.com)