Act I Scene One
In front of you, the sea. Behind, mediterranean shrubland. It is morn.
You are in such a transition area in which the smells of shrubs and the heath mingle intimately (and indistinguishably) with the saline odour of the sea. You walk cautiously on the rocks of the small pathway leading to the beach, following – almost chasing – the sound of the waves, finding your way through the thick vegetation. It is a narrow and steep pathway. You touch the branches of the bushes. A bent branch bleeds a dense and sticky resinous liquid, whose strong and bitter odour doesn’t want to leave your skin. And – in front of you – deep blue. The horizon expands and you abandon yourself to the sounds and the view of the mighty ocean sea.
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