“We escape from Sicily but we never leave the obsession of origins.” (Ferdinando Scianna)

“Accùra”, in Sicilian dialect, is a word that encompasses all the worries, fears and apprehensions for someone. From the Latin “accurare”, it corresponds to the Italian word “badare”, that means “pay attention”, “take care” or “be careful”. In Sicily - scorched and nobodys' earth - life is not easy at all and survival even more difficult. When I was little, I often heard my grandmother said “accùra” because I was a lively and curious child, who poked her nose everywhere without even realizing the dangers. I perfectly remember the fear of feeling the earth tremble under my feet when Etna snorted; the unfenced pistachio fields that I entered secretly to go to eat; the thorns under my skin that I found every time I went to pick prickly pears for my mother, because I didn't like them while she went crazy; the stray dogs met along the way, those rescued and taken to my grandparents' house and those found dead in the “sciara”; cats, which were useful only for hunting mice, were pushed away if they were looking for food and they were considered carriers of misfortune if they were black. Most of all, however, I perfectly remember the color of the fire: those of the sunsets, barbecues on holidays or bonfires on the beach during the summer; those of the lava when Etna erupted; those of the fires - of a mainly arson nature - which occurred every day as well. Everything, illuminated by the dazzling light of the sun, burned silently and, once burned, turned black. Today, twenty years later, that little girl has become a woman. The years go by and, despite the distances getting longer and the times expand, the memories remain but they constantly change taste, color and smell. So I decided to return to my homeland, to photograph it with the eyes of today's woman but with the memories of yesterday's baby-girl.