Maybe it’s the imperfections – the peeling plaster, the crumbling buildings, the hotchpotch layout – that are the real charm and gem of this otherwise tourism-centric city.  Maybe these lovely flaws of a nevertheless beautiful place are best seen in the weak light of a winter day.  If so, maybe the best way to attempt to capture its ethereal images is to go on a walk with a Holga with its own store of surprises and limitations.
 
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Spying on the locals in their familiar setting.  We let the narrow lanes take us where they want to, only stepping in when one leads us right to the edge of the water.  Of the many quaint bridges that cross the little canals, we stumble upon one where Venetians themselves go on about their daily lives as if the city itself were theirs alone.
 
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