And now my meandering takes
to that composition glimpsed from
the SS115, scattered around, inside
and on top of that rocky porous
tuff, that aromatic hill.
Olive, almond and citrus trees
alongside bushes of local caper
and thyme, engaged in their battle
to conquer the travertine ground
as the six senses take over.


FO
Loping up the dirt road, slowly I approach the hilltop.
The song and breath of the wind commands the scene and takes centre stage on the stormy hill.

No trace of trees. Only rocks, thyme and caper here survive. As though by the stroke of a magic wand, the wind suddenly disappears. A curved concrete wall on my side silently enters the scene and like a discreet butler guides my way. A hybrid composition of static and dynamic walls forms wind screens around the rocky territory, revealing the trick.

To the entrance and into the house I am led.
An imposing cross-shaped stone wall provides the fulcrum of a scissor and obstructs my path. The program is sliced and ordered by it. Traces of organisms from a distant past are imprisoned in the stone blocks. Under the concrete roof, different places coexist.
The day area roosts atop a natural pre-existing rock terrace and the enchanted valley below absorbs me.
I make my way back to the stone fulcrum and down the stairs into a cavernous tunnel.
No light, no sight until the rooms are reached. Landscape bursts in. To the shady corridor and up to the stairs I return, out on the rocky ground I step.
Leaning on the soft stone carpet in between the breathtaking baroque sunset and the sea horizon, I give myself up.