Sparks and the Island

Throughout the dismal and dreary repetition of hours that we sum up in days there lie sparks in wait. Sparks – small, shimmering nuggets of pleasure or pain, casting light of a near blinding intensity from certain angles yet easily overlooked from others.


In fact, one can wander through life without ever being struck by the rays of these objects.

In fact, most people prefer the awkward shuffle of the shadow path.

In fact, most people are passive morons.

For those of us who enjoy and even seek out these sparks each and every one contains a new experience or sensation, more often than not found in the most unexpected places.

Drinking a bottle 1996 Accomasso Barolo on a balcony whilst observing both shooting stars and an ongoing volcano eruption is definitely high on my list of experiences. Enjoying a quickie halfway up the slopes of Mount Etna is a recent but enjoyable addition. Roaming the late night streets of Palermo – the heat still radiating off the asphalt and the scent of spices thick in the air – is always a dangerous pleasure. Standing absolutely still in a vineyard almost two centuries old, breathing in the wafting scents and feeling a careful breeze caress you as the world spreads out beneath you… is a spark that doesn’t burn itself out but nestles deep within you, ready to be rekindled and relived.

Sicily is a miniature of the world we know, the first prototype of what would later become the earth. And being so it is such a hotbed of sparks it might as well be crackling with the roar of a thousand forest fires.

…or you could always choose the shadow path..




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