“The oar makes swirling patterns in the water, stirring shards of colored Carnival confetti. The multicolored scraps of paper are the detritus of parties that people insist on hosting even though the authorities of Our Most Serene Republic have warned us that congregating in large groups might spread contagion. I watch the shards of paper float and spin on the surface of the dark canal waters until their colors begin to blur through stifled tears.”