The Wise Old Sicilian

      He stands proud on this hill, looking down.
      Golden, perhaps from the morning sun, he seems to glow. His streets wind up, down, left, right and back again. Curving like smiles and frowns, each road with the ability to choose a mood.
      The term “go straight” takes on new meaning here, for there is rarely a straight street. But, turn enough times, and déjà vu. All roads lead to Rome. Eventually the old man leads you back to where you came.
      Up above, a woman hangs laundry. White sheets and lace curtains drip drop down two stories; the sweet, fresh scent of her fabric softener flooding the area. From there she can see across the street and down onto a rooftop where a group of men are repairing the old clay tiles that are worn and grey from the sun. No one flinches at the beeping of toy-like cars that bump through steep and skinny streets.
      Cracked peach stucco walls rise up from cobblestone pathways. Each fissure a wrinkle of time like laugh lines, or worry lines. Wooden doors are worn. They stand demanding reverence, their wisdom growing with each grain of wood revealed by chipping paint.
      Castelbuono has seen much. Like a wise old Sicilian man.

Sto Bene

      A couple sits precariously at the edge of a stone wall high above the waters. The sound of the waves intensifies, booming as they stumble over each other. Then, just as quickly as it began, silence, and the waves return to their peaceful lapping of the shore.
      Indifferent to the sporadic volume changes of the waters, the couple laughs and smiles, undaunted by the fear of falling or the power of the ocean.
      Offshore two fishermen lay a net.
      The young woman laughs.
      A breeze takes the opportunity to relieve the heat of the sun.
      The younger of the two fishermen stretches over the boat to keep hold of the net.
      The couple laughs, facing each other, as the wind whips her hair.
      The waves settle into constant swishing; back and forth, back and forth.
      The current pulls the boat through the waters.
      Like a ringtone in a movie theatre, a phone call interrupts the moment. She falls silent.
      He kisses her. “Sto bene,” he says, and returns his phone to his pocket.