The heat is hiding between pine needles. Cicadas are already singing.
When I arrive, some of them are resting staring at the bay of San Montano. After having walked from Piazza Santa Restituta, I imitate them. It is like opening a fridge full of tradition. The promontories of Zaro and Monte Vico are forming a half moon containing stories. Starting from the “journeys of hope”, which exotic plants from Australia, the Orient and Africa had to embark on, in order to help create the Negombo Park. I walk away. Cicadas have decided to sing again.
