A summer in Lerici.
bastano pochi stocchi d’erbaspada
penduli da un ciglione
sul delirio del mare»
The perfect depiction of the Ligurian Riviera is given by native born Eugenio Montale, with his precise sensation of revisiting places of our childhood and our youth.
a voi più forte, o è inganno, ben che il cuore
par sciogliersi in ricordi lieti – e atroci».
Only a few things were needed when we used to go to the seaside as youngsters. Bare essentials. A bathing suit which was laid out to dry in the sun. A light-weight beach towel. A book. A bag to hold everything. Our house was up at the top. It sat watching, guarding, waiting. We would go back to the house bringing with us the memories of the day spent at the beach. And each day we made new memories, that we would leave behind, there at the seaside.
It’s hot, I am heading home.
On a deckchair?
Or shall I retreat to my room to rest?
The second option.
I pull the shutters over to shut out some of the light.
The white deckchair remains outside, with its ghosts from summers past.
Only a single ray of light is able to penetrate the room.
Even the ray is white and sharp.
I close my eyes, and I can hear summer as it sings outside my door, far away.
There are no noises in the house.
Everyone is taking a siesta and this makes the house silent.
The sea is just beyond the shutters.
It is waiting for me.
Text by Mattia Carzaniga