Venice isn’t built for schedules.

You arrive thinking you’ll hit all the sights, but the city has other plans. You take a wrong turn, end up at a dead-end canal, and suddenly you’re just… standing there. Watching water gently hit stone, listening to footsteps echo through empty alleys.

And weirdly, you don’t mind at all.

I spent three days in Venice and never once checked the time. I wandered through the maze of bridges and alleys like I was inside a dream. One afternoon I sat by the Grand Canal and watched boats go by for almost an hour. I don’t know why. I just did.

I ate pizza standing up in a quiet square. Took photos of windows with laundry hanging over them. Watched a gondolier texting between customers. I overheard someone propose under the Rialto Bridge and caught an old woman feeding pigeons like it was a sacred ritual.

Venice doesn’t care who you are or what you’re chasing. It just invites you to slow down.

If you try to control the experience, it slips away. But if you let go — if you float with it — you’ll leave with something no itinerary could ever give you.