The sea butterfly

She waves slowly, the butterfly on the sea. To the north the cliffs of Cala Rossa, where the fiery sunsets paint the distant echo of the battle that bloodied the bay. The shiny mirror of Punta Lunga to the south, take-off trail for divers. With the anxiety of exploring the generous depths between the island and Marettimo. Not appreciating it is impossible. But loving her is something else. It is no coincidence that Erri De Luca, a tough writer at every performance, only here bent to play a part in a film, The Island Mechanic. Favignana, with the soundtrack of Gianmaria Testa, complicit brother, seduced him. Favignana made of sun, beaten by the foe, the warm west wind.

If in the evening the rituals of the summer, the shopping dressed in a sarong, the aperitif at sunset with a chill out background, the restaurants with the catch of the day transform it into an island for all tastes, with the sun going down that the butterfly shows its sparkling charm. The scent of pine trees that stuns and accompanies you to the shore, where the undertow beats, the boats moored motionless, with the cats to point them, the sudden white coves, the tuff quarries that hide secret houses. The goats with the chino snout, the fortress on the sea of the tonnara.

Here tens of generations have consumed hands and nerves, men for whom the sea has never been a friend. Today the young people leave, those in the near Sicily landing place, those up to the continent. But they can't help but come back every summer to the butterfly by the sea.