Impetuous waves moved by the whirlwind dance and I let myself be carried away by the incessant movement of the clouds.
I savour the saltiness that pervades the air, I gather the sun’s rays that leave my skin, I scan the dubious faces of the bathers.
The storm is on the horizon. Everything seems to be waiting for it and the sea, first, is ready to welcome it.
Text: Anastasia Mercadante