Ca' Incantato

The attic floor of a once fabulous palazzo, furnished with scavenged treasures. Old brocade covers the walls. Boldly patterned, the rich shades of coral have faded and mottled with age, the lustrous fabric crumpling around the bottom. Deeper coral, a panel of an antique theatre curtain hangs on the wall above the bed and drapes over its wide surface. The dense velvet is encrusted with embroidery, the edges thickly fringed. Bolsters and soft pillows are piled to offer the comfort of a couch. Near the bed is a chest of carved rosewood, and across the room a long table is set with wine and fruit. The dark wood of the floor is partially covered by a worn Oriental carpet, the sumptuous colors faded like the brocaded walls. Candles are everywhere - a chandelier of gilded wood hangs from the ceiling, and sconces and candelabrum hold more of the slender tapers. On the wall beside the bed, the semicircular curve of a window frame contains a triptych of windows looking west over a walled garden. Four arched windows face south, a padded windowseat running beneath. Beyond them, a fortuitous arrangement of rooftops reaveals a view of the lagoon. The sun drowns in the darkening waters. All that remains of its light is a rim of vivid crimson, a blood line drawn on the horizon. Night descends, enveloping the city like a shroud stitched with diamonds. Within Ca' Incantato the myriad candles are lit, golden tongues of flame flickering light and shadow on the brocaded walls.

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