On Tuesday night, after an evening spent gulping back bellinis and spritzes, Jess and I managed to find our way back to our hotel in Venice without getting lost. Not much of an anecdote I know, but it was the first time it had happened…the not-getting-lost I mean.

Getting lost in Venice at night is exhilarating, spooky and extremely easy. One minute you're surrounded by tourists and (a few) locals, the next you're eerily alone on narrow, canal-ended streets. It's hard not to imagine that you're about to catch fleeting glimpses of red-raincoated girls/killer midgets out of the corners of your eyes.

While such horrors did not manifest themselves we were briefly stalked/surveilled by a tall trenchcoated guy with a small pocket knife. I tried reassuring Jess that even if he intended killing us it would take several hundred vigorous stabs to do the job with such a modest weapon. Strangely, she didn't appear much comforted by this observation.

I think I mentioned in the comments section of the last graffiti post that Barcelona was the most graffiti-heavy city I'd ever visited. Well, it has nothing on Venice. There's graffiti everywhere. On every street, on every second beautiful, crumbling building. I didn't spot any particularly amusing examples (possibly because it was all in Italian) but it was hard not to be impressed by the sheer volume.

Luckily, Limerick continues to yield noteworthy pieces for the archive. While strolling down O'Callaghan Strand today I spotted the following masterwork inscribed in once wet cement:

For those hard of…em…seeing it reads "David Beckham is Beautiful". Did the author realise that such a bold statement of enthusiasm would almost certainly provoke a reaction? Was that why he/she chose such a permanent and unalterable form of graffiti to make this pronouncement?

Earlier in the day I'd seen a typical "Fiona 4 Ever" grafitto where the "4 Ever" had been crossed out and replaced with the pithy "is a slut". While "Fiona" sort of set herself up for this particular fall, the creator of the above has ensured that disputing David Beckham's beauty is no easy task. One would need a chisel or a bucket of wet cement…items one doesn't often have readily at hand.

A declaration of love made concrete. It may outlive the man himself.