—ALBERTO SAVINIO “The kingdom of Capri,” I say to Ed. He’s leaning on the ferry rail, taking in the first close glimpses of the mythic island’s sheer cliffs. “I’m listening for the Sirens’ song.” “You have to be a poet to imagine that,” I answer, looking around at the crude churning bucket we’re on, with its load of fellow travellers. I point to white villas with domed roofs and bright boats along the coast. “Water is probably scarce. The domes channel it to a cistern.” With the others, we thunder off the ferry from Ischia, where we have spent three sybaritic days soaking in the volcanic thermal pools and eating grilled fish with lemon. I approach Capri with some apprehension. The island’s reputation does not entice—posing glitterati flashing megawatt smiles as flashbulbs pop, international lounge lizards sipping prosecco in the piazza, and yacht owners parading their nubile companions through shops that sell only about ten items, size zero, all priced to impress.
What do You think about A Year In The World (2006)?
