Italy can be as mysterious as it is inspiring. Getting lost in the maze of narrow, bricklain pathways during the siesta hour echos sounds of only my footsteps tapping against the hard pavement. The hushed tones from behind closed windows and massive doors leaves one to only imagine the scene in small, tall ceiling spaces. Every once in a while, the clanging of pots and pans ring loudly and scents of batter fried zucchini blossoms trail deliciously through the open air.
The chaos has momentarily subsided. This is a daily ritual of quiet and calm, when the streets empty and the houses fill up with food, family and a quiet repose from the day. Each home is hidden behind thick, wooden doors with handles the size of a small head, some with intricate designs or mythical figures. One can only imagine ancient times when instead of shoes, horse and cart tapped the ancient streets.
The doors are like massive portals that intimidate with their size and stature, as if guarding the gates of a palace filled with secrets and scenes we will never know.
Nowadays, the large doors are rarely opened and only a smaller, life-size door already created is used for entry into the building.
We can only.....
make up the stories......
along the way.
Enjoy the journey.
copyright 2008 Alisa Barry