Platamona on a January morning

One January morning, under a still night-dark sky, I waited for the first light of dawn in the center of Sassari, my hometown. Amid the historic buildings surrounding Piazza d'Italia, while I was taking my photos, the morning breeze carried a faint scent of coffee from the newly opened bars, and gradually the city's movement began to stir.

Suddenly, I felt a kind of call towards the sea.

After a few kilometers by car, I arrived at the beach of my childhood, the one so crowded, warm, and welcoming on those hot summer days. It was now deserted and enveloped in a quietness hard to grasp. The rustling of the waves gently breaking on the wet sand served as a backdrop, with no one around except for a few fishermen and scattered joggers.

It was a very fascinating atmosphere. A vivid contrast with what I remember from the hot months, now the feel was not dissimilar to what I feel in many Japanese empty towns in the countryside. A space on the verge of two different worlds, where human presence is there and at the same time is a thing of the past.