Pietrapennata, Calabria

I move between crumbling houses and scattered stones.

Fig branches press against collapsed walls, laden with sun-warmed fruit. Wasps flutter nearby, drawn by the sweet scent.

My shirt sticks to my skin.

A door hangs on its hinges. From inside, something like a bat’s cry.
Then nothing.

On the ground before the house, the body of an electric guitar, strings broken.