Description

The afternoon is coming to an end, the air is still, the sea seems tired. A fisherman still lingers slowly ... or maybe not ... waits for the darkness to begin. On the horizon the sharp profile of the island, a reassuring presence, enveloped by the reflections of a sun that goes to sleep. The moment leads to oblivion ... as if in the throes of an aphrodisiac nectar, whose color spreads through the transparencies and reflections of the waters. The sea thus takes on an aphrodisiac power. Homeric inspirations... The sea at dusk and dawn is not blue...it is not blue... οἶνοψ πόντος. The flashes of the dying or rising sun impose its indigo surface with violet reflections, like those of a young, fragrant and intoxicating wine. We stop to think, with a dip in the history of the times, of the enchantment of lands and seas without artificial lights, waiting for that magical moment ... short as a glass of wine ... to savor ancient sensations.