Schena publisher - year 2003
The mystery and superstition are intertwined to the myths and legends of Puglia marinara in this novel that takes at times the movements of the yellow, while in other passages melts into a lyrical fresco setting popular, tinged with emotion and human passion.
A tight narrative and engaging, which often proceeds in parallel on a double track, to converge in the dramatic final, between catharsis and damnation.
The sea is beautiful in September. Provides transparency improbable in mutability
currents that light up the colors of the sandy bottoms in geometric iridescence and enhance the brown tones
of reddish rocks just lapped by marea.Le poseidonie, visible to the clear water,
oscillate on the seabed with sinuous movements and graceful.
The musk of seagrasses, ogling between sky and sea, creeps into the embroidery of the rocks, in the ravines, draws garlands flowing swaying to the slight undertow.
The bathing in disarmament show the empty eye sockets of the booths with doors torn and piled.
The sun still hot reconciles the sense of quiet and solitude of diehard swimmers who silently,without the clamor of days ferragostani, achieve a magical relationship with the sea of little sails.
And the same sea nell'afrore algae decomposing, strong scent, primary, grants and grants griefs unspeakable almost offset the imminent arrival of the autumn storms.
An end of summer for a long prelude of relentless bad season.
It was in a setting so idyllic that “what” appeared. Monstrous. Orripilante. Sign of decay of death and decay itself.
Floated with the most impressive submerged, just pushed, in a movement difficult to scorgersi, from the game slender currents. Highway junction plane from the tip of the pier, where the water is deeper and the bream bream hovers quick and cautious. It looked like a tree trunk drifting. The bumps were thinking of twisted roots. And so. to a tree trunk they took the first swimmers that saw
. And Then, very slowly, approached the shoreline.
Swarms of minnows darting around the feeding tendrils and slimy. Someone shouted from the dock in the direction of bathers on the beach. The cry was lost to the sea
Some other in lively gestures indicated the approach of “what”. On the beach intertwined the first confused comments.
There was even some brave who motioned to enter into the sea to swim closer to “what” float. It was strongly dissuaded. So daring initiative collided, defeat, with the caution that the occasion demanded, as he said gravely a retired colonel. And those present nodded.
But the eyes pointed toward the deep still could not pierce the mystery of the appearance ...