As I am wandering through the streets of Venice – I am here for a workshop – the image of Venice as an anthill pops up. The men who collect small bags of waste in the narrow streets and bring them to the boats, the men who are wheeling little cargo through the labyrinth to supply the shops and restaurants, they all seem to act as workers in an ant nest. You don’t need to have a map to find your way through the labyrinth of narrow streets, as burrows dug into the city. You just follow the most populous trail, as if we leave pheromones to find the shortest paths between important locations in the city. The tourists are the fungus as harvested by the local population. Street salesmen, gondolas, restaurants, museums, shops with souvenirs, they all supply the tourists with the desired entertainment in exchange for money. Venice is sinking and the sea is rising, but as long as the tourists come to admire the beautiful city, the anthill remains.