gondolas float on purple roses E-Book

Tom Weber

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 116

Beschreibung

Anja and Tito can't believe their luck when the eccentric editor-in-chief of La Lettera asks them to cover the latest edition of the legendary Venice Biennale. But the seemingly routine trip quickly takes a turn as Tito grapples with increasingly complex feelings towards his long-time colleague and friend. From smashed up artworks in the Giardini and the fragile wonders of Murano to vain celebrations in a decrepit Lido hotel, Venice is ripe with symbols and mystery in this highly introspective story. Come along on a journey through the ephemeral city that unravels the innermost nature of love and life itself.

Leseprobe

Dedicated in gratitude to people whom I've come to cherish not just as co-workers, but as friends

Alannah, Caro, Dani, Iris, Josh

Know that you will always have a friend in me. This book and its story belong to you.

On les retrouve en raccourci Dans nos petits amours d'un jour, Toutes les joies, tousles soucis, Des amours qui durent toujours

Paul Fort, La marine

Chapter overview

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Day 2

Day 4

Day 5

Chapter 4

Day 7

Day 8

Closing words

Chapter 1

'God, I hate travelling by bus,' Tito thinks to himself. But almost as soon as that thought had crossed his mind, he felt the need to correct himself. Tito quite enjoys a bus ride – when there aren't too many other passengers around. An empty bus allows him to enjoy the comfort of two seats while he listens to music as an initially aimless gaze out of a dirty bus window gradually turns into the beginning of a voyage through the mind. While he can't say whether other people do the same, Tito is pretty sure of it. After all, most people are dreamers. Even teenagers, who are – especially nowadays – often accused of having completely succumbed to materialism, can rarely resist the gaze out of a bus window at something else, something beyond themselves. This is what we're left with, what we cling to in the 21st century, this humble everyday philosophy. It does seem that the time of larger-than-life idealism is over, doesn't it? God is dead, political systems have come and gone, and our modern liberal democracies appear to be stuck in an endlessly divisive rat race. Life should now be optimised and is riddled with microtransactions. Work is not meant to be enjoyable, but simply of the greatest possible benefit to the economy – whoever 'the economy' is… Children have become investments in the future and they are to be moulded into an efficient product as soon as possible. Everything has turned into one huge competition called Life, and while nobody knows what the prize is, everyone is convinced that they want to win.

There is no room for dreams in a world like this. Dreams cannot be monetised and thus, they have no value. In fact, it's almost embarrassing to come out as a dreamer to your friends these days. At best, you get blank stares, at worst, pity, a slightly tilted head, and an overall facial expression that is typically reserved for a kid who has just announced that they want to be Superman when they grow up. Internally, Tito scoffs at his own thought process. No, he is convinced that we humans are more than Netflix subscribers and office workers. Being a dreamer, Tito believes that humanity's true legacy is in its stories, its art, and, above all, in the emotions from which these creations were born. Emotions that can't be summed up in an emoji or a tweet of less than 280 characters. The gaze out of a bus window may be all that's left for many, but Tito has always thought that it doesn't have to be this way. Every human is imbued with innate creativity, and rather than seeing life as a competition, it may be worthwhile to consider it a large communal work of art. Everyone could contribute in their own ways. They could write, paint, compose, or leave their very own mark in any way they see fit. Of course, none of this is even in the slightest bit realistic, Tito is well aware of that. It's – quite simply – a gaze out of a bus window.

Tito actually does despise the bus he is currently on though. It's packed with sweaty tourists and a couple who seem to have spontaneously decided to settle their divorce proceedings right here, right now. As he listens to their conversation, which is impossible to ignore, Tito starts to think that – in some way – he can see why many young people today prefer not to get married. Divorce rates have skyrocketed in recent years. And those who remain married sometimes seem like they eagerly await the divorce through death that they were promised during the marriage ceremony. It appears that marriage as an institution has also fallen victim to the great competition. To earn the label 'winning at life,' it's not enough to have a job, a relationship is also a must. If you're still single in your early thirties, it's assumed that you must have some fundamental character flaw. At this stage in your life, you're also increasingly likely to fall victim to your friends' almost pathological matchmaking frenzy. But even if you are in a relationship, you're not really much better off. The societal pressure is intense, and a partner is expected to be converted – at the very least – into a registered civil partnership as quickly as possible. Every baby is a trophy, and the subsequent breakup and custody battle that comes with it is practically part of climbing the social ladder.

And honestly, who has the time for a relationship between career and hobbies? Who can still afford to spend time getting to know another person, listening to each other, and sometimes maybe even dreaming together? Tito has never understood the slightly gossipy discussion about whether it's friendship or 'a little more.' He has always thought that friends have the best prerequisites for a stable and lasting romantic relationship. Surely, those who are willing to invest the necessary time and attention into the development of a relationship will be rewarded in the end?

It's so easy to judge people, Tito thinks. As he looks around, he reckons that he could probably judge each and every one of the other passengers on this bus solely based on their appearances. We do this so frequently, almost unconsciously, and to some extent it's perhaps even a natural reflex. But it does make you wonder what this means for authenticity. Tito regularly catches himself judging others and often feels awful about it. After all, he likes to think that he still believes in something like honesty. Honesty, which still pays off in a world that places so much more value on the artificial. We live in an age of labels, wonderfully illustrated by the ubiquitous use of hashtags. Stories are shorter than they used to be, complex social issues have the nuances beaten out of them by uncaring algorithms, and opinions can be expressed with a simple retweet or like. The shorter, the better: In an age when everything is instant and waiting times of more than ten seconds force us through odyssey-like torments, there is no time for detailed arguments. Constantly, we are being asked to judge: 'Do you like this, what do you think of that,' and reactions are to be given by the mere press of a button. It's really no wonder that referendums are so popular again, seeing as they merely reflect a snapshot of the current mood rather than a well thought-out, rational opinion. At this point, Tito decides to abandon this train of thought, vowing to not get political just this once – not even in his own thoughts.

As all of these reflections shoot through his mind, Tito notices that the bus has almost reached its final stop. He thinks about stuff like this all the time and always feels a bit hypocritical afterwards. Tito is well aware of his own flawed nature. But he does try and do better every day, and maybe that counts for something? How can we grow if we don't try? In any case, rolling to the side and giving up has never been an option for Tito.

As the bus is approaching its stop, Tito spots the large bridge that connects the mainland to Venice. His work colleague Anja sits to his right, intensely studying a leaflet about this year's edition of the Biennale. Tito looks at her, perhaps a little too long, as Anja suddenly returns his gaze, forcing him to contort his face into a dorky smile. Tito doesn't know what to expect from this trip. All he knows is that he and Anja are here for work, and that his feelings for her are becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Chapter 2

Throughout his life, Bernardo Rossi was a staunch supporter of communism. Nothing could rock his faith in the eventual liberation of the proletariat. While he despised the totalitarian regime of the Soviet Union and the ruthlessness with which the CPSU maintained control over the so-called people's democracies, Bernardo didn't have to rely on blind faith in Lenin's legacy because he worshipped a different red god: Josip Broz, also known as Tito, the founder and long-time leader of socialist Yugoslavia. For Bernardo, this man was the true leader of the revolution. Tito, the partisan who freed the Balkan states from fascism without relying on an intervention by the Red Army.

During his time as a journalist for the communist newspaper L'Unità, Bernardo Rossi regularly penned op-eds praising the Yugoslavian leader. Positions like these, however, made him extremely unpopular with the party leadership, as the Italian communists had close ties to the USSR until the 1980s. But Bernardo didn't really care; he was interested in spreading his principles rather than power struggles within the party. His ideology had become such an integral part of his personality that even after the collapse of Tito's socialist Yugoslavia, he refused to acknowledge any wrongdoing on his idol's part. Until his death five years ago, Bernardo remained convinced that Tito's Yugoslavia had been the ultimate socialist paradise, without ever having visited the country himself.

But even after his death, Bernardo's admiration for this socialist leader lives on. When he found out in the late 1980s that he was going to have a son, he didn't have to think twice about what to name him. Since his wife also liked the name, a child by the name of Tito Monteiro Rossi was born in Rome on 20 January 1988.

Tito is the first to admit that he generally had a rather uneventful and overall happy upbringing. While his father Bernardo was the one who essentially gave him his name, Tito was always closest to his mother Alessandra, who also gave him his middle name, inspired by a character in Antonio Tabucchi's novel Sostiene Pereira. Contrary to her husband, Alessandra could never have cared less about the drama of politics. However, this doesn't mean that she was apolitical. She had a very strong sense of justice and, if pushed, could argue any opponent into the ground. She was a fiercely intelligent woman, and perhaps the most important quality she made sure to nurture in her son was a never-ending thirst for knowledge and learning new things. When it came to social issues, she took a community-first approach. Over the years, Alessandra helped and supported countless people, becoming loved and cherished as a result – not least by her son.

Another thing Alessandra made sure to pass on to her son was a passion for all forms of art. Besides being an avid reader from an early age, Tito also quickly developed a passion for the fine arts and studied art history at university. After countless internships and a few poorly paid seasonal jobs at museums, he was eventually offered a full-time position as a journalist at a local cultural magazine called La Lettera. During his time at university, Tito had become interested in photography and had taught himself the craft to an astonishing level, making him an appealing 2-in-1 deal for the magazine, as editor-in-chief Carlo Malnate himself conceded.

It was at this time almost four years ago that Tito met Anja Reihl-Kir. The two of them got along very well almost instantly, which is rather remarkable in Tito's case as he usually takes a long time to warm up to others. But something about Anja was different. From the start, he felt like she understood him. His usual urge to mask and keep an emotional distance was practically non-existent. Conversations with Anja came easily and naturally, and the two of them became not only an amazingly efficient pair of colleagues, but also good friends. They shared numerous interests, chief among them a great passion for the arts, and regularly had long discussions about topics that they were particularly interested in. As their professional projects grew more ambitious, the easy-going nature of their chemistry increasingly bled into their private lives as well. Their chat messages kept getting longer and their content more personal. What Tito found particularly extraordinary about this correspondence was their willingness to confide certain things in each other. While Tito had shared many things with some of his closest friends, it had taken him years to feel even remotely comfortable talking about similar topics to them. But after just a few weeks, Anja and Tito were telling each other stories that they hadn't told anybody else before.

Tito learned, for instance, that Anja's family originally came from Croatia. In the early 1990s, her father Dragan and mother Nada fled the increasing unrest in socialist Yugoslavia with Anja and her two siblings Marija and Vesna to Italy, where they ultimately decided to settle. The collapse of her home country and the loss of many relatives left Anja's mother severely traumatised. To this day, she hardly speaks a word. As her support needs increased, her husband did his best to not only take care of her, but also raise Anja and her two sisters. Unsurprisingly, Anja has a close relationship with her father to this day.