Salvatore Ferrara


I remember my father’s hand. I remember how careful and strong it was.
All around there was excitement, a great wait, as it was the search for something very precious, holy, and powerful. With a big effort (guided towards a precise direction) advancing among the vegetation, we finally found ourselves in what would have been the best observation post -a curva pericolosa*. Everything seemed foreign to me, I didn’t know what to expect. The only reference I had was my father’s hand.

While I was stunned by the shots of the gun and by the deafening incitation of those present, a surreal scene appeared: the statue of Saint Filippo was gliding without friction, supported by a cloud of white dust and surrounded by thousands of quick steps. The dismay and the fear transmuted into participated apprehension. What I was feeling above all was the fear that that scene would have turned into tragedy.

That curve was… and still is…dangerous. Suddenly, it interrupts a calata scaluna scaluna** and it forces the ones who carry the statue into an unbearable twisting movement.
Many years have passed since that memory. Now, it has decided to emerge.

This is my Via cruyllas.

* “The dangerous curve”.

** “The descent step by step”.


Virginia Vaccaro



Testi | texts

Associazione Culturale Promo Loco
Via Cruyllas Calatabiano.

Traduzione |  translates
Virginia Vaccaro
Traduzione |  translates
Mario Fillioley

Ccopyrigth 2010 Promo Loco Associazione Culturale P.IVA 04735520878