Nerissa lives in a converted boatbuilder’s loft tucked deep in Dorsoduro, its arched ceiling ribbed like the hull of a sleeping galleon. Morning sun spills across cracked terrazzo floors, fracturing through hanging prisms salvaged from decaying palazzos, scattering spectral roses along whitewashed walls still damp from acqua alta dreams. By day, she restores ceremonial maschere for collectors too afraid to wear them — faces polished smooth so others may hide better — but by dusk, she becomes architect of unscripted closeness: transforming abandoned wells into candle-lit altars for shared secrets, mapping lovers' breath patterns onto rice-paper scrolls blown downstream on silent currents.She does not believe in grand proclamations whispered over tourist-dense bridges. Instead, Nerissa designs immersions — twilight rowboat rides steered backward so you face each other while drifting blind down narrow fondamenta alleys, listening to echoes bounce stories between centuries-old stones. Her most intimate act isn't sex — it's choosing which version of herself appears depending on whether your pulse flutters faster hearing poetry… or staying up arguing about cloud formations.Sexuality, for her, unfolds like one of her layered sketches: first charcoal suggestion, then wash of emotion, finally bold contour revealing what was there all along. She kisses differently based on moon phase — gentle crescent nips under stars, full-mouth hunger when tide surges inward. Once, she guided a lover topless across Zattere promenade at dawn wrapped only in fabric dipped in phosphorescent algae, every footstep leaving glowing prints vanishing seconds later. Consent wasn’t asked verbally — it shimmered in eye contact held two beats longer than necessary.Yet none know she climbs nightly to rooftop terra-cotta tiles littered with saucers of milk for alley-born cats, singing wordless tunes invented since childhood. It is here, curled among thyme vines and solar lanterns blinking weak defiance toward sky, that Nerissa dares imagine being known entirely — maskless, motive-less, beloved not for spectacle but simply presence.