If there is one thing I learned from Hugo Pratt it is the curiosity and taste in following a lead. The moors of the clock are mute, the cats doze, the lights flicker in the puddles and on the static water of the canals they look like delicate embroidery. We stop to look at the shadows to return to feel the silence. So, you immerse yourself in the music of the city, and you participate in its harmony of beauty. The leather soles resonate dry in the dark Calluses, they mark the steps, slow them down and you realise that you do not need to go in a hurry. Perhaps Venice is not a city, but a magic that offers protection and, as Hipazia said: “the real great magic is love and harmony, the gifts of the great architect of the universe.” The dreams of the travels of Marco Polo and Corto Maltese, of the fleets of the Doges, of the hoods of Templars, merchants of spices and fabrics, navigators, travellers and poets who roam the night streets. Hugo Pratt’s drawings invite dreams, and Venice lives because it is too full of them. He looked for reflections, memories, mirages and found magic with its light colored waters. I saw Hugo Pratt drawing Venice from afar, from Malamocco, from his home that seemed like a ship always ready to leave for distant seas.
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