Maybe we do not realize it while walking in Colli al Metauro, on the narrow alleys that cross each other in an ancient maze or, charmed by the surrounding landscapes, we wander on the gravelled paths on the hills. To realize it, we have to stop for a moment and close the eyes; and then we discover it: the silence, we are by now unused to. In Colli al Metauro, the air is somehow crystallized into this lack of vibrations, which makes us breath deep and exhale the worries out. The boroughs of silence produce this charm, a sort of a magic glass bell that excludes any frenzy. The noises that break this lack of sounds look like coming from another reality but which is part of the same magic: the tolls from the bells cause the little birds to fly away cheerfully chirping, every now and then a cat meows peacefully in search of a caress, or a passerby kindly says hi, smiling at our surprised gaze. It may happen to spend one hour or two in an imperturbable quiet, leaning against the walls to watch the surrounding hill, letting the gaze reach down to the sea, and imagining of hearing the sound of the undertow. Citizens of Colli al Metauro look like they have a congenital gift that makes them lead their life with moderation and respect for all that surrounds them, being aware of the luck they have of living in places kissed by nature and by history. Visitors can’t help joyfully conforming, while climbing up the stairs that lead to the heart of Saltara, of Serrungarina and Montemaggiore and listening to the sound of their own breath, or while crossing the boroughs of Bargni and Pozzuolo, tiny pearls on top of hills which kept the breath of time, where children, in the summertime, bathe in the open into wooden washbowls and rising the eyes a girl can be seen, between the branches of a cherry tree, leafing through the pages of a novel. The eyes get filled, and the ears get relaxed.
Pozzuolo