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.
The road climbing the hill below the small piazza
Piazza De Amicis
“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.”
The view from the piazzetta
Mediterranean sea-breeze witnessing confessions
“I told him to follow me, I’d show him a spot most tourists and strangers had never seen.”
“Are you saying what I think you are saying?”
Piazza De Amicis by night
“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?”