Basilica di San Marco
The world is hushed. Reverence, rapture, are crystalized in a golden drop of amber bled from the heart of time. The air is tinged with the dark breath of incense and the tender, fading perfume of flowers. The floors are paved with rare marbles, pale and dark, the walls with centuries of gleaming mosaics, all enveloped in dark golden shadows. Glowing lamps flush with light as crimson as blood, staining the walls of the side chapels. The five great domes loom overhead, hollow golden crowns following the Greek cross of the interior. A chandelier of Byzantine splendour hangs like a rich pendant from the center of the nave, a branching cruifix blossoming with light. Smooth marble trunks rising over your head, a forest of foliated columns supports the gallery. Over the altar you discover the Pala d'Oro, a masterwork of enameling and gemstones set in gold. Everywhere above you, mosaics glimmer, a myriad of saints gazing into the infinite with dark, pensive eyes. You wander the labyrinthine interior, moving from wonder to wonder. Shaped by the tides of the lagoon washing over the pylons below, the floor of inlaid marble undulates beneath your feet.
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