Venice, crystal and twilight, as Borges wrote, is a mirror of a thousand reflections, guiding you into a delirium caused by an excess of beauty and seduction. Enchanted by the mysterious light of the night, it is easy here to encounter your soul and brush, even for an instant, against the very essence of life.

A crescent moon peeks out from the east as a silent ship glides through the Basin of San Marco, propelled by a gentle breeze that teases its sails and plays with its loose ropes.

In this city where stones turn to water, wood becomes stone, and streetlights glow with the hues of sunset, the moon, celebrated by poets, illuminates the lagoon, transforming it into an endless silver expanse. It is an eternal alchemy, without beginning or end—a moment suspended in time.