Salinas, Italy
12 Dec
This place is full of love and romance. At night the flowers emit a scent that makes me go dreamy-eyed and breathe deeply. I breathe in the night, the sea, the stars, and everything in between.
The people are kind. They aren’t used to travelers this time of year. The stray animals aren’t the lonely strays I’m used to. Even they seek out love. The shopkeepers leave out plates of food and snuggle cats in passing. They gently remove them from cafes and shops with a caress and a smile. The deteriorating buildings aren’t lost and forgotten. They drill, break, and build ALL hours of the day and night.
Don’t we all, I say.
But, I digress. The air is moist and warm. The sea is calm and hearing it lap against the rocks outside my window is surreal. The nighttime emptiness offers comfort and solace, instead of the fear I am constantly experiencing in big cities.
But most of my time on this small island was spent in a room. A honeymoon room. A room with a view where my clean laundry gently undulates in the breeze. A room with stacked cigerette butts and an unmade bed.
And now. Now, where does this bird perch? Leaning on a concrete bench, drops of rain smacking my neck, my ear, my hand. Uncertainty looming in the dark gray skies. Goddess of the weather, I once thought. And yet? I want nothing more than openness and genuinity. I want reality. Believe your ears. When have I ever admitted it? Only now am I beginning to grasp reality for what it is. Theirs isn’t mine. Mine isn’t ours. It is what you make of it. It is what you allow yourself to see and to reveal. It is.. well.. ‘what it is,’ AP.
MRumianowski
Melissa,
I miss your beautiful soul.
Your description has me seeing, smelling, tasting these places.