This night, there is an extraordinary clear sky. So clear that you can hear the waves braking on the rocks, behind the hills on the horizon. With every wave bursting on the cliff, the night comes closer. High above the hills as they float from left to right some invisible clouds swallow upcoming stars and the wind creates circular movements of the air. Coming back to horizon; there are feverish city lights, which remind of a hot day at the beach. They remain contrast to the deep distant blue background. And they remain contrast to tall pine trees in the foreground. The trees could be a shadow as well and only the subtle green tint make them real being. Their leaves, when brought into the motion, smell as beautiful as our last summer in Tuscany. In the middle ground roofs of many houses can be distinguished among the city squares, backyards and a monumental church with spire-shaped tower. The church so white that even the darkness of the night cannot hide it. It seems that no natural power is able to diminish this great architectural piece of genius, nor to destroy its meaning to the citizens, nor to wipe away its legacy from the history of this nocturnal city.
Behind the buildings, there are high mountains, bluer than the sky above, they completely absorb the starlight. They stand for the city walls. The sky is now a flowing river, moving and humming around the walls. Its waters are filled to the brims with endless amount of fish. They shimmer and splatter then turn around in a big flock reflecting the move of clouds and disappearing stars. On the other side of the wall, in the inner circle of the city, artificial lights dash out of the windows. Their attempt to mime the starry night feels unnecessary. They should be as they are; they should stay just the reflection in the water. For this they exist: to emphasize the divinity of real darkness and of real light.