You open your eyes. And the first thing you see is a poster of Venice. You ask yourself every time why somebody chose such a kitschy poster to hang over that chair.
If you were in Venice right now, it would be embarrassing to send a postcard with that picture to your loved ones.
But when you lie in that bed, in which you sleep a few nights every year, you are happy about that yellowed sunset over the Rialto Bridge.
Because you know that if you are in Venice, you are in Paris.