Aspromonte

The woods closed in quickly there. One moment there was a path, then only trunks, shadow, and needles underfoot.

I stopped and waited. The light was thin. I looked for a sign I recognized. A woodpecker tapped somewhere uphill. A squirrel crossed the slope.

The quiet thickened, then broke. A zampogna carried through the trees. A tambourine answered, close behind.

I followed the sound between silver firs. The air smelled of resin. The music grew steadier, warmer.

The forest opened into a small clearing. Two musicians played a tarantella, laughing between notes.
No stage. No crowd.