Total Article : 76
About Me:I am a Year 13 student which aspires to be an architect. I am interested in anything I don't yet know, and I mostly write about art, politics , Italian culture and inspirational people, although I will try to write for as many categories possible, just to test myself and get to know more things.
Napoli at the first lights of the day. The lights obliterate the remnant of obscurity left from the night. The sunshine rises at my back as I lead to the coast along Via Toledo. My timid and tepid shadow follows me as I walk through the street, blending with the many other shadows of people that are making their way through the crowd. At the first lights of the dawn the city is already awake - tireless - and the street is already populated by merchants, bartenders, waiters, tourists and students all hurrying around and lost in their daily duties.
Faces, footsteps, voices disperse in this space. The scent of coffee fuses with the gentle breeze coming from the coast which slowly dissolves in the fresh air. Now the shutters are widely open and the city is coming back to normal. In the blue sky, the sunlight expands and pervades the dim corners of the alleys. The seagulls fly over the roofs, scattered in the immense sky, and roam in the vastness, on the verge of the sun, almost at the limit between heavenly sky and the earthly streets of this city.
It’s midmorning now. The sun is over my head at the perfect centre of the clear and azure sky. Now everything is exposed to the sunlight and I can feel its warmth on my skin, and every breath refreshes my lungs with the sea breeze. Suddenly, stunned by the confusion of Via Toledo, I walk in an alley where the sun can’t be seen and its light is obscured, but the true light passing through these corners is irradiated by the joy of the people and by the opening balconies, from which vitality leaks out and overwhelms me making me feel alive. That is the light donated to the path beneath by the gaiety of the mothers, and their children, and the sheets hung, and the chatter of old ladies. The light poured by the colourful balconies filled with life, where the light leaks from the eyes of the people.
The fresh odour of the hakes and polyps, the fragrance of the shellfishes lying on the stalls, the essence of sea transpiring from them permeates the alleys. The scooters hurtle through the street markets, and the smog enriches the air, and a singular combination of odours forms, available exclusively in this slice of heaven. I’m amazed, wondering. I am slowly making my way through the crowd.
Now the faces are confused in the dazzling sun of midday, the voices are louder, the footsteps heavier. In the distance the resound of the bells’ echo through the alleys. Now everything flattens, at the apotheosis of the confusion, and I am trying to orientate myself. I’m slowly walking, up and down, wandering, twisting and untying in the alleys but not lost because everywhere around here is home. Because this jungle of cement is my home. This hank of buildings and this unstoppable chaos is my home. All in a sudden, somehow, the gulf appears in front of me. A red blood sunset lies on the horizon and the sun elegantly leaves the scene, closing the curtains. And here I am standing on a point where sky, sea and ground converge, and I am trying, breathless, to take all of this in, all of this marvel.
The night is over Napoli and the moon caresses the veil of light persisting on this city. The reflection of the white moon is drawn onto the expanse of dark blue water and the mix of lights is sparkling in my eyes. The sea is whispering. So close, so intense, I can feel the salt on my skin and the waves under my feet. The noises and the voices along the seafront blend and harmonise, like a serenade dedicated to a place which lives in light and doesn’t know darkness. And I am here, overwhelmed by the odour of the sea and the salty water drops on my skin. I am here, staring at something, at the blank, thinking. Thinking of the memories, of the smiles, of the faces, of the voices. Remembering what I was and what I could have been here. Realising that the distance is the biggest obstacle, and that the absence is the worst of feelings.
But meanwhile, the lights are still behind me, the noise is still rumbling in my ears, the breeze is still caressing my hair and the beauty of all of this, around me, is still hitting my eyes and bridging my emptiness. Because the beauty of this place is not merely aesthetical, it’s profound, it’s different. It is true beauty, recognisable in light and darkness, in day and night and is untouchable, and that is it.
Image credits: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:MezzelucialbaPosillipo.jpg