Everyone seeks to tread on famous lands,
Not to embrace the history that within them stands,
Nor to lose themselves in the invisible threads of tradition,
But to snap a photo,
To boast tomorrow of having seen,
Without truly feeling,
Without touching the soul of the place.
But I, instead, long to listen,
To the breath of flowers that tell of seasons,
The voices of the youth who weave dreams and hopes,
The taste of a meal that speaks of the earth from which it grows,
The wind that whispers ancient secrets,
Carrying shadows of distant times.
I want to feel, to live,
Beyond sight, beyond mere appearance.
Dancing Giglio 