Sun is rising over our house, and somewhere at the opposite side of the globe is coming the evening. Rays of the dawn slowly glide along the rough walls of old buildings and obstinately make their way through narrow cracks in wooden shutters. Inevitably they enter the room, expanding and growing, gaining and absorbing the power of their creator, the sun. Life begins on the streets of the city. Newspapers, morning coffee and a smell of gasoline are becoming essential attributes of a morning routine. Fruit markets are opening their doors to everyone who wants to have a daily dose of vitamin burlesque recharged.
As if in rhythm to this fuss, with a look of a native inhabitant, who knows every lane and every corner, deftly maneuvering in a crowd of passers-by, is running a dog. His ambitious look shows that it’s not for the first time he follows this route. At the end of the street, his old friend, a baker is waiting for him with a breakfast already prepared from chopped bones and meat wastes. The dog smells the treat and starting to run even faster – his patron is already waiting at the entrance with a treasure package and a cup of coffee for himself. The dog runs up, cheerfully waves his red tail, licks the baker’s hand, and starts the meal – the morning ritual in action: an elderly man drinking a coffee and his faithful red companion, eating his breakfast.
First cars are passing on the main street of the city, lucky them, will not get into the morning traffic jam. But they will surely become its hostages in the evening when they will be returning home for a dinner or rush to a meeting with an old friend.
On our first morning here in Naples, there is nothing more beautiful than watching this awakening scenario. Actually not the first one. We have already been here at the different times and separately: you – during the Renaissance, me – before the last eruption of Vesuvius. A lot of things have changed here for so many years, but I still remember the same aroma of a very bitter coffee, spreading along the narrow alleys, passing from house to house.
Slowly, taking the time to feel every inch of space with our skin, we are going through the center to the quay. Morning peacefulness of the Tyrrhenian Sea fascinates, attracts and makes you peer into its blue, just like several centuries ago. For a while, we stop right in the middle of the sidewalk, lured, like in a trap, and look into the distance…
Residents of colorful fairy-tale houses that climb up the cliff at the opposite side have already opened the windows to let the sun inside. The first pleasure yacht raises sails to perform the morning voyage alone. Sounds fill the space, amplify and merge into the one voice of spring Naples. You want to listen to it, eagerly swallowing every single word, get fed up, plug the ears and back to the top again.
You take my hand, and we continue our eternal path to where we have already been, where we are and will be together.