I just read a great passage in the book I’m currently reading, The City of Falling Angels by John Berendt. The book is non-fiction, but it reads like fiction. Beautiful.
The author discussing Venice:
“On one occasion I set about testing this notion by concocting a game called “photo roulette,” the object was to walk around the city taking photographs at unplanned moments — whenever a church bell rang or at every sighting of a dog or cat — to see how often, standing at an arbitrary spot, one would be confronted by a view of exceptional beauty. The answer — almost always.”
I felt like that in Europe all the time.