There is something particular about letting yourself float in salt water. Not quite on land, not quite in the sea. Not yesterday and not tomorrow. Only here, and only now. A moment to remember, or to dream, which may turn out to be the same thing. Above it all Procida looks down and smiles, and lets its pastels run out across the water. The nostalgia of tomorrow
There is something particular about letting yourself float in salt water. Not quite on land, not quite in the sea. Not yesterday and not tomorrow. Only here, and only now. A moment to remember, or to dream, which may turn out to be the same thing. Above it all Procida looks down and smiles, and lets its pastels run out across the water. The nostalgia of tomorrow
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