The
next town is similar, roads leading up into derelict plots. A grand manor
shattered but still standing.
The town of Poggioreale is a whole place left half fallen and abandoned. The
main street as a skeleton behind some modern gates.
Its as if the destruction has come from within or below.
From above a long overgrown street runs through the middle.
An absence of people.
Deserted fragments, someone else's grave,
I feel I should not linger out of respect.
I read later that the whole earthquake lasted about three minutes.
I can’t imagine the feel of such force coming from the earth.
Something immovable as rock set into motion.
Up over the top, over a craggy beaten land. Only the whirr of the windmills.
The road to Alcamo sweeps down along open plains, great road, empty and to
myself.
