A few weeks ago I spent the night at a convent in East Harlem. The nuns gave me a room on the third floor with a twin bed and a wardrobe and one high window and because of the angle all I could see outside was the sky and part of a church rooftop.
It was so cold I slept under three blankets. In the morning I woke up to the church bells at 6am and it sounded like they were ringing in my room. They were loud but they did not jolt me awake. I woke softly. I think that loud and gentle really aren’t opposites.
I like the bells. I like that they ring every morning at the same time. It’s not an alarm but a suggestion. Perhaps you should consider waking up.
If I ever get to Venice again I want to stay here: