26th, 27th, 28th of February 2006. Venice, Italy. I was originally drawn to Venice by shockingly wicked stories and accounts of Carnivale in the 17th and 18th centuries; of unapologetic decadence, debauchery, depravation and degeneracy conducted openly in the streets, and far exceeding the supposedly "scandalous" dramatics of modern society's silver-screen aristocrats. Of a time and place which could create and nurture such personages as Casanova and Lord Byron (English-born, yes, but a Venetian at heart), not to mention the scores of lesser-known but no less unique libertines and wantons. Drawn, too, by the memory of mysterious, labyrinthine streets full of hidden alcoves and delicious conspiracies and more secrets than could ever be told. But most of all, I was lured to her festivities by the age-old thrill of donning a bewitchingly beautiful mask and becoming
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