" This place was created before paradise." One should have the wisdom of the waves: stubbornly, they crash into the rocks every day, knowing that little by little they will smooth them and shape them. The waves of Polignano a Mare must be skilled teachers: they have been able to embroider high cliffs, design inlets, ravines, and caves that cannot be described, because words have not yet been invented to describe such beauty. We wouldn't be surprised if mermaids existed in Polignano a Mare, because the sea truly seems "painted blue," a shade used only for this village with a delicate soul. The houses seem to want to protect themselves from the force of the undertow, standing like a wall against those waves. But the scent of saltiness still wafts through the narrow streets of the center, carried by the tourists who couldn't resist taking a dip as they descended to the coves. It wafts from the little restaurants serving fresh fish, mingling with the pungent scent of Mediterranean herbs and the mint of the Mojito , old ladies sitting on their doorsteps preparing the main ingredient of the young people's favorite cocktail. Amid the narrow streets of the historic center, the sweet scent of poetry is strong, and on the doors, windows, and stairways, black letters tell thoughts and stories. It's easy to imagine that someone must have gifted this little village to us, for the days when joy is so great we must share it, and for those when melancholy is just a toad waiting to be chased away. It doesn't matter if the wind is strong and the storm seems threatening, because Polignano is always a small treasure trove of great emotions, even when, overlooking the steep cliffs on the dark horizon, a lightning bolt flashes in the black sky and it's instantly magical, an instant desire to fly, with open arms and a tugging jacket, pushed by the force of the breeze, like Domenico Modugno who every day gazes at that sea, challenges it, and embraces it.
