A single blade of grass, one beetle, one ant, a bee by the reflections of gold ... testify to the divine mystery of instinct
(Dostoevsky - Brothers Karamazov)
Castrovalva is a village with a fluency that stretches from the raw rock, a rocky crust that protrudes from one of the many clumps of stone that anticipate the river gorges of Sagittarius. Castrovalva is little more than a handful of houses, lined up at random, over the top. E 'right there, at that point and at that hour, that the stone fades into a gray ash and limestone that smacks of old, while some lock shaft caresses the wall of the overhanging cliff that slopes down to the river, of which you hear only the lure of each shower. Above is
Castrovalva, north of a south ever seen, anonymous and destroyed, and the south infinite set of countries, sweet and naughty, lonely and silent. The countries are all as part of a world that knows no latitudes or cardinal points. All belong to the one bisector, including Castrovalva facing severe and austere on Anversa degli Abruzzi and that puts the shivers just looking at it. If you come from Sulmona, before crossing the gorge and cross the lake of Scanno, you can see a path on the left and so emaciated that took place in the endless greenery, an old paved mule track that goes on top. To search for an indication of the road that leads to the top, you have to peek between the trees, digging and digging with bare hands. That signal is a betrayal. The country comes to
end of a journey that winds and climbs to the top. To get there, close your eyes and hold your breath, do not look down, because the rail is thin and exposed to the vacuum and the primal thrill of flight is a fascinating and sublime imagination can not keep, but not to let go, can not contain.
Castrovalva addition there is only a rough sky into segments that swears rain.
to welcome me there's a fig tree still in embryo, a frayed straw chair and a fountain that never ceases to deliver water source. A Castrovalva winter there are fifteen people, but people swear proudly eighteen. The country is a big house, the streets are corridors of tufa virgin. On the front of the church there is a large wrist watch covered by a sheet of opaque glass. The square has no name on the sign and it says simply Piazza.
summer to get around two hundred, among family and friends, and some romantic alone. The village is only accessible on foot. Fabrizio, is not here, as they are not wearing the brace and it is even less than his wife, a huge Dutch woman smiling blonde. The focus of the capital city betrays him and vows to escape from Rome as often as he can, because he is in love with this place thirty years ago and do not leave it for the world. The earthquake has just lapped Castrovalva. Everything was saved here, except a wall of the church of Santa Maria a Nives. A Castrovalva you die just yet life abounds and flourishes in his loneliness and helpless in the dignity of grass sprayed inexorably from the sun.
Castrovalva, north of a south ever seen, anonymous and destroyed, and the south infinite set of countries, sweet and naughty, lonely and silent. The countries are all as part of a world that knows no latitudes or cardinal points. All belong to the one bisector, including Castrovalva facing severe and austere on Anversa degli Abruzzi and that puts the shivers just looking at it. If you come from Sulmona, before crossing the gorge and cross the lake of Scanno, you can see a path on the left and so emaciated that took place in the endless greenery, an old paved mule track that goes on top. To search for an indication of the road that leads to the top, you have to peek between the trees, digging and digging with bare hands. That signal is a betrayal. The country comes to
end of a journey that winds and climbs to the top. To get there, close your eyes and hold your breath, do not look down, because the rail is thin and exposed to the vacuum and the primal thrill of flight is a fascinating and sublime imagination can not keep, but not to let go, can not contain.
Castrovalva addition there is only a rough sky into segments that swears rain.
to welcome me there's a fig tree still in embryo, a frayed straw chair and a fountain that never ceases to deliver water source. A Castrovalva winter there are fifteen people, but people swear proudly eighteen. The country is a big house, the streets are corridors of tufa virgin. On the front of the church there is a large wrist watch covered by a sheet of opaque glass. The square has no name on the sign and it says simply Piazza.
summer to get around two hundred, among family and friends, and some romantic alone. The village is only accessible on foot. Fabrizio, is not here, as they are not wearing the brace and it is even less than his wife, a huge Dutch woman smiling blonde. The focus of the capital city betrays him and vows to escape from Rome as often as he can, because he is in love with this place thirty years ago and do not leave it for the world. The earthquake has just lapped Castrovalva. Everything was saved here, except a wall of the church of Santa Maria a Nives. A Castrovalva you die just yet life abounds and flourishes in his loneliness and helpless in the dignity of grass sprayed inexorably from the sun.
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