In a small hotel room on the Grand Canal, there were floor to ceiling windows along a wall that opened onto a tiny balcony. I could stand on the balcony and look across the canal. Vaporettos and water taxis (and a few gondolas) were going in both directions, and the canal water was cresting and moving the smaller vessels slightly off course. The sidewalks were full of people walking, some briskly, some slowly, and others pulling suitcases behind them. All of this took place with a minimum of collisions. At sunset I looked out the window through the curtain with the balcony windows closed, because it was October and the air was becoming chilly. I could still hear the echo of the wheels of suitcases, and the sounds of conversations below. The traffic in the canal seemed more intermittent.
Much later in the evening, there were just a few indistinct voices left, and I heard someone singing in the distance. After that it became quiet for a few hours; even the canal seemed calm.
Then came the sunrise, and supply boats slowly began coming down the canal. Since it was cold outside, the boat drivers were wearing hooded jackets and were hunched over the wheels of their vessels. Gradually the indistinct lines of the boats and drivers came into focus. The sidewalks started filling with people again, and the hum of conversations increased. Venice, beginning another day.