A delivery boat cuts the main canal on Murano at speed — one man steering, another sitting on a lumber stack, Trattoria Al Frati’s dock terrace sitting mostly empty in the background. Overcast sky, peeling facades, a working island doing what working islands actually do. This is the Murano that exists once you walk past the glass shop strip. Quieter, less curated, more honest. On what both islands look like once the postcard wears off: Murano and Burano Are Beautiful for About Five Minutes.