I arrived to B on a warm late afternoon. After a refreshing stroll around the lower town and then to the hills, I walked up to the piazzetta of confessions – overviewing the sea – where thirty years ago on a sunny morning Elio found the courage to give up his secrets to Oliver, to the palm trees and to the sea-breeze.
“In thirty, forty years, I’ll come back here and think back on a conversation I knew I’d never forget, much as I might want to someday.”
Next morning – right after my espresso – I climbed back to the piazzetta to find out how the trees and the breeze still remember that conversation.
Piazza De Amicis by night
Mediterranean sea-breeze witnessing confessions
Piazza De Amicis
The road climbing the hill below the small piazza
The view from the piazzetta
“I told him to follow me, I’d show him a spot most tourists and strangers had never seen.”
“Oliver: Do you know what you’re saying? Elio: Yes, I know what I’m saying and you’re not mistaking any of it. I’m just not very good at speaking.”
“Are you saying what I think you are saying?”
“Would my descendants know what was spoken on this very piazzetta today? (…) Or would it dissolve into thin air, as I found part of me wishing it would?”