You too can smell the scent of Orange flowers?

We are in Sicily, in that land of gods and heroes which, over the centuries, everyone has tried to capture in words. But the Trinacria it doesn’t get captured so easily: from Trapani to Ragusa and then up to Messina, the island is a magical triangle in which meanings mix or disappear.

All that remains is to abandon yourself to the Mediterranean warmth that feeds the prickly pears. Yellow pulp, white pulp or red pulp? The best remain the “bastardoni”.

Sicily is mestizo, hybrid, contaminated. It draws strength and charm from all the crossings that have marked it over the centuries. The island is one and many, it is wild and noble, it is beach and temple; it is Greek, Arab, Norman and much more; it is volcanic fire and sea.

In this land suspended between history, myth and tradition, you learn all over again the colors and flavors you thought you knew.