Ep isode 8 9
Fate
Awake. Shake dreams from your hair, my pretty child, my sweet one. From ‘Ghost’ by The Doors
The skies of Venice are bright. Dozens of colourful boats veer off across the azure waters of the Grand Canal. Washed by the night rain, the ancient streets of the city brightly glisten in the sun. Cyclamens in terracotta pots on the stairs of the elegantly refined Palazzo Paruta Hotel bathe their delicate scarlet petals in the winter sunshine. The original Venetian marble floors reflect the wall stuccos and tapestries of the seventeenth century noble residence. In the Royal Suite, tucked between crisp white sheets, a young man lies in bed. His cashmere overcoat is put away in the walnut closet, his clothes, neatly folded, rest on a luxurious velvet sofa. Next door, on a bed with a gold-leafed headboard, a brunette, her hair wriggled in a divine mess on the pillow, is fast asleep. Her coat on the floor, her red high-heeled shoes are carelessly thrown onto the plush blue carpet. • Dmitry Voronov shifts his body and opens his eyes. His vision blurred, he looks around: neatly folded clothes on the sofa, a basket of fruits and a silver tea set on a charming little table, blackened logs in the fireplace… He sits up and moans… The past night’s events start coming back to him… Her eyes, the Joker face, the mysterious Gothic Palazzo, the path of glimmering in the dark candles... His sluggish mind tries to grasp the lost thread, but it slips away. He gives up and flops back onto the bed. •
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