I never thought that a philosophical essay on metaphor could be analized in a cafe' in Venice. In fact, the pace of the Lagoon fits perfectly to the internal rhythm of this unconventional work. This book moves in waves of thoughts. Just like the waves, it starts off by a small motus, it grows and flows into the peak wave that digs the bottom of the lagoon; then as a gift, it pours it back. If at that time you are lucky enough to be on the water, you budge. This essay is itself a metaphor. Carolina Migli Bateson