Sitting It Out

Found Moments: vignettes pulled from the flow of travel and time

This post forms part of Found Moments — a series capturing quiet glimpses of humanity, drawn from the flow of travel and time. Often unplanned. Always unposed.

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Drawn from my travel archive, these are the kind of images that linger in the mind long after they’ve been taken: a gesture, a glance, a fleeting moment of action or a moment of stillness that catches the eye.

This one comes from Venice, during acqua alta - when the tide rises and the city gently blurs at the edges.

Piazza San Marco as the acqua alta rises (2018)

A December afternoon in Venice, and the water’s creeping in. In Piazza San Marco, it starts with a gentle, almost unnoticeable, trickle; bubbling up through the storm drains, the water gathers pace as the tide rises, the lagoon quietly reclaiming the stones beneath our feet. Acqua alta - the high tide that occasionally floods the city’s lowest points - has a familiar rhythm here. Locals check the forecast rather like we might glance at the chance of rain, the boardwalks go up, and shopkeepers wearily raise their stock from the lower shelves yet again.

When tides are predicted to climb higher than usual, the city’s alarm sounds—four rising tones to warn of exceptionally high water. One note for moderate flooding, four for the serious stuff. It’s an oddly musical alert: eerie, ethereal, otherworldly and practical all at once. There was no alarm on this occasion - just the quiet rising of water as expected, but no less surreal.

Around me, the familiar bustle: tourists giggling and shouting as they wade through ankle-deep water, the metallic splash of boots and hurried footsteps, voices echoing off shuttered shopfronts.

And then … this chap.

Sitting there in the middle of it all, legs crossed, scrolling on his phone as if enjoying a perfectly ordinary Saturday afternoon. The sunlight casting everything in gold. He’s unbothered, unhurried, entirely at ease.

In a city renowned for its drama - Gothic palazzos gradually sinking, shimmering reflections of coloured houses in the canals, masked balls and centuries of tales - this moment felt rather different. No grandeur, no performance. Just a chap in boots, enjoying the sunshine while the water rises around his ankles.

In Venice, the extraordinary often comes wrapped in layers of history and spectacle. But sometimes, it looks just like this: one quiet figure, holding his ground in a square slowly surrendering to the sea.

“Sometimes sitting quietly is the most powerful thing you can do.”
—Unknown

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