The memorable instant.
[Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi]
The sky is everywhere. Even the wet sea is looking like the sky.
It is evening. The Delhi Walla is on the beach in Lido, a narrow island in Venice that was the setting of Thomas Mann’s unhappy novel Death in Venice.
The universe is quiet. The waves of the Adriatic Sea are making gentle splashing sounds. The country of Croatia lies on the other side of the sea. They say that it takes five hours to reach there on the boat.
An abandoned building stands a few yards away from the beach. It has minarets and a dome. This is Hotel Excelsior; it is closed for the season, and will re-open in the summer.
A few minutes later, the evening comes nearer. The sun starts to go down in the western sky. The moon climbs over the Adriatic. The entire sky and the entire sea is drenched in a strange beautiful shade of pink and blue. The blue is gradually receding, giving way to the pink.
Soon, the night will arrive.
Wading further into the cold waters, I come across a fallen bicycle. It is a very, very fragile moment.
Nothing gold can stay