Naples is raw.

But not one of those crudenesses people talk about.

It is raw in a secret way, but fiercely.


There’s no shame in its narrow streets where noises and perfumes mingle with the traffic and the rhythm of the waves blown by the wind.

Naples is a mother at the window making sure her son doesn’t get distracted while crossing the road,

it’s baked bread tickling the appetite, unexpectedly,

it is the blinking blue of the sea between one building and another, like labyrinths for people’s lives, their clothes hanging on threads,

for you to wander, walking with your snout in the air.

Naples is geometries braiding with houses,

something nobody would ever think of combining, but for some reason they fit, just perfectly.

It is the daring of colours and tastes, something that only painters and the mads would think together.

It is the market down the road and days made of simple things, a slower flow, warmer.

Naples is raw,

but it is in the crudeness of simplicity that we feel the most alive.

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Lungomare di Mergellina

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