Lignano Sabbiadoro, March

Pine trees, far establishments, with closed windows and plastic colors...
old cans left on the road with no data,
cigarette butts emerging from the sand:
these and other objects, while I was walking approaching to the sea, asked for more attention.
The sea is always the same: it is what has been mounted around
- I understand -
that has the power to fix it with all these tiny details
in the map of personal memories.