I have long cherished the dream of telling a story about the Favare di Maletto. A story of light, silence and stars. I imagined capturing their soul in the stillness of the night, with the arc of the Milky Way encircling them like a celestial embrace.
In the foreground runs a stream: living water that springs from natural springs.
Favare - as they are called - a name that comes from afar, from the Arabic al fawra, meaning “gushing water”.
And indeed they do flow, spontaneously, from the heart of the volcanic soil, when spring melts the snows and the rains awaken the earth. From there, these threads of water are born, intertwining and running towards the Simeto.
The scene enclosed in the image is a small enchantment: the stream that opens its way between the rocks; the vegetation that paints the sciara with intense greens; a tree that stretches out, almost as if to caress the passing water; Etna in the distance, showing itself with its paroxysmal fire that feeds the south-east crater. And then, above it all, the Milky Way: a river of stars flowing silently, mirroring the Earth's river, in an interplay between sky and earth.
But there is one last detail, almost invisible, that reveals a discreet presence: the photographic tripod of my nocturnal walking companion, Orazio.

Canon 6dmod, Samyang 12mm f/2.8, 30 sec, x 55 iso 3200, Optolong Lpro