Venice in December is a magical place of mists and Christmas lights, fluffy panettone and mulled red wine. But the dawn comes late and the days are short. Between my desire to go see all the churches and palaces and paintings in museums and my jet lag, I went out painting most mornings at 6 AM.
In a piano nobile apartment to the left flickering blue light told me someone was up early, watching morning TV. Just before dawn, yellow lights began to flick on in apartments around the square, and the Frari church doors opened around 7. An antique priest shuffled out and stood there, watching.