A volcano called Etna
"It is beautiful and inexpensive. Its owner is an Italian widower who is very nice and helpful to tourists,” Ana had told me, and I had imagined that Italian as a kindly old man, similar to my grandfather Paco.
But far from the truth. The man who received me, named Vittorio, was the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life: bushy black eyebrows, dark eyes, harmonious features and a body worthy of any Greek god.
"My friend recommended your inn,” I said, shyly overshadowed by the male beauty.
"Our clients are our best advertisers,” Vittorio told me and showed me his perfect teeth in a frank smile.
The first night at the inn, Vittorio surprised me with a bottle of wine after dinner. I had gone out to the terrace to read a book and he arrived there:
"This is on the house. We welcome all new guests with this welcome,” he said and uncorked the bottle, then filled two glasses he had in his hands. The conversation turned to trivial things, like the weather and things to do on the island.
"At the moment one of the most impressive spectacles is the eruption of Etna,” although I had read about it, I let him tell me everything he knew as an inhabitant of that area.
"Etna is one of the largest volcanoes in Europe and can remain active all year round". -He began to tell me and my eyes were attentive to his full lips.
"It is said, according to some legends, that Etna possesses one of the gateways to the underworld. Also, according to some myths, it is said that Vulcan, the Roman god of fire, had his smithy on the slopes of this volcano and when he found out about the infidelity of his wife, Venus, he would stoke the fire of his smithy to grind his sword, to such an extent that the volcano would erupt".
I must confess that I lived like a bowstring: tense and with the feeling that an animal was biting me from the inside. Every night I waited for the conversations with Vittorio about that volcano that threatened to sweep everything away and every night I waited to return to my room to have those dreams that left my body drenched in sweat, as if I had run many kilometers.
"The volcanoes that remain in activity, are less dangerous than those that are asleep". -He said and I felt like he was talking about something else.
In two days I returned to my country and met Ana, who confessed to me that Vittorio had also told her the story of Etna and that she had felt more or less the same effects of listening to those passionate and fiery stories of the volcano. In my heart I knew that behind those words there was a man on fire, but I wondered if Vittorio was like that volcano in permanent eruption or, on the contrary, a sleeping volcano that could explode at any moment.
All images are free of charge and the text is my own, translated in Deepl
