Sto bene al mare

The sea is like a break from the very idea of being someone. The waves whisper that you don't have to rush, build a career, or measure meaning by the number of glasses in CityLife. The sun melts anxieties, turning them into lazy air bubbles that rise and burst without a trace. Everything becomes a little sticky, a little salty, but surprisingly light, as if life had decided to take a break from seriousness for a moment. And in this careless languor, the smell of cream, Marlboro cigarets, and hints of a love drama that no longer hurts but simply sparkles somewhere in the reflection of the sun on the water are mixed together. It seems nothing is decided and nothing needs to be decided. You can just breathe, laugh, and allow yourself to be happy for no reason, at least until sunset.