House of the Spirits in Marechiaro

House of the spiritis in Marechiaro, Posillipo Naples

For the moment we are studying each other from afar. She breast-high, gazing toward the horizon as if waiting for the next shot as she always has. I’m on the other side, as always. A little bent, a speck compared to her. If I had a grain of her strength, perhaps we would understand more each others. Even without having to look for so long.
The resistance to the time. To the rage. To the elements. To the human being.
To know and to be able to stand against many adversities is not for all. Of course now I can not see her in her glorious appearance. In her imperial look. I can imagine it. Only.
She is there with this sort of crumbling teeth and rough skin. So rough that it seems that also the outline is lost. Stone by stone, century by century.
From the inside I do not see anything. Every crack that I observe, to the more intimate, from my distance is a black space. A vacuum that could may be filled from everything and anything. And the legends want that in this dark space is full of spirits. Perhaps these spirits, invisible and eternal, always held that piece of history that my eyes are seeing now slapped by one of the many tides that had to oppose.
For an imperial villa of 21 centuries old, a wave more or one less makes little difference.