An impossible mooring
Among unexpected poetry glimpses
In the morning, before the sun starts tanning the skin and inviting tourists to the beaches, it is the moment when Favignana shows his most authentic face; it is the time when she reveals some of her secrets to the tourist that does not feel a tourist.
One step after another, losing yourself in the dew and among the paths, you get to the sea; the incessant undertow, undisturbed by the sound of the steps of a lonely morning runner, caresses the heart. The sea beckons the gaze and the feet; as we cautiously walk on the cliff, we see a sea-carved cave; some other steps on the sharp contour of the coast and, hidden from a hasty gaze, a small natural pool appears to us, connected to the sea by a narrow cave.
As we cautiously walk on the cliff, we see a sea-carved cave.
In the midst of transparent waters, a rowing boat floats lazy, the only mistress of that place; three ropes secure it to the rocks, making sure that it remains at the center of the stretch of water: in this way it will never be snatched and offended by the capricious sea. The gaze looks around and finds no access to the stretch of water from the cliff; and how can the small boat reach the sea? The cave leading to the open sea seems too narrow to allow the boat and the rower to pass. Nevertheless, the boat is there, the uncontested lady of the place, with its coolly flanked sides and its ranks neatly tied to the benches, the most precious property of a benevolent Charon.