"Brunetti walked up toward the hotel, still lighted,
even at this hour when the rest of the city was darkened and sleeping.
Once the capital of thedissipations of a continent, Venice had become a sleepy provincial town that virtually ceased to exist after nine or ten at night. During the summer months, she could remember her courtesan past and
sparkle, as long as the tourists paid and the good weather held, but in
the winter, she became a tired old crone, eager to crawl early to bed
leaving her deserted streets to cats and the memories of the past."
Beautiful writing. Though I have never been to Venice this paragraph captures perfectly my vision of a city that I have only seen pictures of.