Marina di Ravenna is a bit like home.
It is not my memories’ home nor my childhood’s home, it is rather a window of adulthood’s memories. A bit memory and a bit nostalgia.
We strolled around the huts of the “old sea wolves”, waiting to see some fish stuck into the fishing net.
I remember the simple laughs of the fishermen who full of pride, shared with friends the catch of the day… or maybe, some sailor anecdotes.
The glow of the sun in the sky had a different meaning, as well as the moon’s one reflecting every single movement.
The fishing huts hidden between the foliage were at that time “the story of the moment”, now, they are the “story of a time”.
The sovereign silence was the sacred key of not said words.
Rule number 1. the fish does not come close unless there is silence.. so I respected the silence.
My big eyes stared at those mysterious fishing huts wondering what those skilled fishermen could devise, considering the fishing net always full of fish.
Coincidence, tactics or knowledge?
And then, once the fishing session ended, the sea returned as smooth as the oil… availalble to the shadow games made by the moonlight.
It was like a painting drawn into my eyes.. now, it is a photo showing a bit of my ‘home.’