Costa rei
A warm night, lying there, caught in the thought of wanting to rearrange things, to make sense of it all. But then, something clicks. Maybe it's fine just as it is. The gentle sound of the sea fills the air, and the breeze rises around 2 AM, whispering a quiet invitation for the body to surrender. Finally, it does, letting go of the tension, the worries, the restless thoughts.
The dawn arrives quietly, without rushing. The sea is calm, its waves softly lapping against the shore, sending a melody of peace and companionship. It’s as if the world itself has slowed down, wrapped in a gentle embrace. In the quiet, the sea becomes a kind of dialogue, speaking not with words, but with a rhythm, a calming pulse that matches the beat of your own heart.
As the morning light slowly unfurls, the colors appear—soft pastels that seem to melt into one another. The sky holds a delicate hue, reminiscent of the works of Piero Guccione, especially his Nuolvette (Little Clouds), where every shade of light seems to tell a story, to whisper a secret. The light, the sea, the breeze—they all become part of a living canvas, an invitation to stop, to breathe, to simply be. It’s in these moments that the world feels right, just as it is, untouched and full of quiet beauty.
And so, you wake—not with haste, but gently, like the dawn itself, taking in the beauty of the day ahead. Everything is in its place, even if it’s never quite arranged the way we imagine it should be. It’s perfect just as it is.
