The Favignana stone

There is a place where the stone whispers to the sea, telling about ancient and distant stories.

It tells about the wild hunter who, after hunting, lit the fire inside the cave.

About the Phoenician sailor who prepared the altar to give Isis thanks for the abundance of the fishing.

About the Roman settler who, impatient, saw his merchant ship set sail for distant ports.

Millennial rock. Pure and compact sand. Foundation of this earth.

About the faithful Christian who, in the light of a lantern, prayed to God for the salvation of his deceased.

About the Spanish prisoner who engraved the coat of arms of his family in imperishable memory of his presence.

About the tireless "pirriaturi" that, after the last blow of mannara, rested in the shade of the old carob tree.

About the self-taught sculptor, who with clever shots of ice ax, he created his latest "tuff head."

Millennial rock. Pure and compact sand. Foundation of this earth.

Engraved, excavated, molded by time and hands tell me again of what you have experienced: people, cultures, jobs and hard work.

Like a granny with thunderous tired hair, tell me about man and his roots.