Spring has sprung in Venice, and as we celebrated the vernal equinox yesterday, the spring in everyone's step was extra noticeable. The flowers are bursting out all over, and the smell is jasmine and mock orange (my very favorite) wafts everywhere on a breeze. It couldn't be more lovely.
As we know our days are numbered at The Roosterfish, we made that be our afternoon sunny spot. People were partying in the daytime, perhaps feeling it even more since we know these times are precious. We ate our awesome $3.00 burgers out on the back patio (try to find that anywhere else on the boulevard anymore!) and clinked our glasses together in the sunshine, thoroughly enjoying being in the very present moment.
When the sun shifted and the late afternoon grew chillier, we took it inside to my friend David's office, where they create virtual reality. You can tramp around on an Icelandic countryside. You can go to a virtual fortune teller. You can fly over animals stampeding in Africa, with more than full 360 degree views, it's also up and down. It's interactive, so you're choosing your paths and adventures. It's nuts.
I think it's all super fun to see and do, but I worry that with all this technology, people won't get outside and do things for themselves anymore, they can just strap on a headset and go wherever they want. And become fat, unhealthy, sloth-like Wall-E people. A friend pointed out that it's great for those with disabilities, so they can experience all the same cool things able-bodied people can, which is true and great ... but still. It all makes me a little nervous. Especially when there are SO many great places and things to see and REALLY do, that ... I don't know. I'm mixed.
I'm mixed about a lot of things these days, with so much turmoil and division going on in the world. It's now that we really need - more than ever - to not only have real and special moments, but to appreciate them while we're in them. Like our awesome afternoon at The Roosterfish, together with good friends, all knowing and feeling the value of the time we were spending.
Later on, after a wonderful outdoor dinner with friends next to a fire pit, I was back home thinking about it all. I recalled a quote from Jack Kerouac's Big Sur:
"On soft spring nights I'll stand in the yard under the stars - Something good will come out of all things yet - And it will be golden and eternal just like that - There's no need to say another word."
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