Palizzi Superiore, Calabria

“No wilder nor more extraordinary place than Palizzi can well greet an artist’s eye,” Edward Lear wrote in 1847.
Lear sketched it too. The village rises sharp and bare in his drawing.

In his time, Palizzi was full of people. Today it’s quiet. Wind slips through empty streets as I follow the path he once walked.
I’m trying to find where he stood.
From the sketch, it looks like low ground near the riverbed. I take the old stone steps down toward the bridge.
Broken pomegranates lie on the path. The air is sweet, overripe.
Two crows chase each other above the houses, their calls cutting against the cliff.

The riverbed is almost dry. A thin stream runs through reeds four meters tall.
I push into the reeds, guessing this was the view.
It’s gone. Green fills everything. Nature kept going.
I lower the camera.
The wind moves where the river once ran.
