We were in Venice last week, lost, and chilly. In search of the third spritz of the afternoon, we’d taken a walk down an alley, then another, and found ourselves in a tiny, mossy courtyard, when abruptly…
‘WELCOME to the most beautiful bookshop in the world’.
The Libreria Acqua Alta. Part curiosity shoppe, part bottomless book-dump (good luck if you’re after a specific title) the Libreria Acqua Alta “looks like your corner of the living room”, according to Gabriel.
‘Für Katzen’, said a card propped up against a rather damp bowl of kibble. Inside, camera-shy kitties reclined on mounds of catalogues, faded postcards of American government buildings from the 1960s, and reproduction antique maps. In a landlocked gondola, Tintoretto languished with Taschen’s Big Penis Book (3D, in case you’re interested). The sweet, faintly worrying smell of paper-rot bloomed with varying intensity as we delved deeper into the labyrinth.
I know what you’re thinking. Where’s the fire escape?