Live on a Rock

Rocks are mighty, I love them, I vividly remember each and every embrace. I am perched on a rock in silence, wind breezing across my face, and think over stuff, stuff that evaporates when I think too much about it. It is the stillness, a rocks’ silence that whispers the secrets of a heart at peace. My heart has been born and raised, always racing. I remember when it stands still, I’ve fallen in love with those moments.

San Rocco is like isola bella for islands, it is what it says: a mighty rock. Vittorio lives here, he’s build it up. The authentic houses, each one of them, he’s given them again a door, a window, a bed, a shower: life. I look at him, I listen to his smile, and I know he is right. Life on a rock is magically untouchable, it is like living with time on your hands, all the whiles to live. 

Friends drop by, they have time, they would not have made the innumerous steps to come here without it. A cool goggle of water greets me, just before sipping the Sicilian wine. We are very few here, we have the same view, and we look at it. Vittorio brings some fruit, everyone smiles. Vittorio’s every gesture is a genuine occurrence, impressions digested. Slowly.

I look at my princess, how every delicacy of her wholesomeness touches me, and for a second, and more, I really wonder, why would we not all, live on a rock.