Riserva Naturale dello Zingaro, in Sicilia

Riserva Naturale dello Zingaro

A natural reserve in the far out northwest corner of Sicilia. A desert of sorts, we are in one of the farthest points of Italy. The salt of the sea, the color of its layers and depths, the train that got you out there, and the conductor in the short shorts and cowboy hat. You picnic with your cousins and their friends, Sicilian style. Relax, chill. If this destination were a person, you barely would have noticed him sitting over in the corner. He opened up secrets of a small, reserved world you never knew existed. Surely undiscovered plants and fish hide out in the crevices of this sea haven.

The water is not gentle. The sea is introducing itself to you in a new way, as it has done at many tiny, multifarious Sicilian beaches. This one is no exception in its rawness, its strangeness, its power. A small opening in the rocks brings the waters from the entire Mediterranean basin; channeled, they are rushing at your torso, rocking your knees, swelling your brain, swaying your hips. Your beauty comes undone and becomes raw with nature as the sun beats the sweat out of your organs, so that it pulsates out onto your skin. Pulsation continues down your back, salted beads mirroring the water now playing with itself over there, as you take refuge in the warmth of the sand, in the warmth of the wine that accompanies lunch, in the warmth of the sensuous thoughts you have of the one you love on that day, the one that is not there, the one that, were he your true love, would feel your heart beating through its Sicilian prism 2,000 miles away.

The rocks are rough on the water, and the water carves its lessons into the rocks everyday, so that none are smoothly surfaced or just one color. Greens are in so many detailed forms, browns and tans never looked so inviting, and the light teal of the sea is the one thing you hope you'll never forget, even beyond the love you thought you had in a person. The love for this island is the love that will outlast all pleasures, revealing them to be ephemeral, even though this island at times presents itself in a hedonistic way: yet you know at your core that this island is eternal, mythological. As deep calls to deep, this island takes you, and you welcome it into your heart, your pores, your eyes, as if you were ravenous: it is your ancestry, it is your pearl to which you return years after years. Aching to take this home home with you - desiring nothing more than to never leave the mountains that, so familiar, feel as if they are part of you, and feel a part of you, and tell you, this is you.... how can you ever fully leave? Let pieces of my soul and flesh remain on the mountains, on the rocks, in the water, in hearts, an offering. I will summon them as best I can through the distance. And I will return to them with new love.