I’ve seen Alghero in the winter, its fringed coastline and black and white rocks polished by the secular wind. The Mistral wind comes from far away, it hits the town and wipes its colours and images out. You stare watching them in the rain, framed in a picture, until the end of the odd days.The southwest wind is a stranger, it arrives on the waves and cloaks the beaches blurring all the contours with its shadows.
The Mistral wind is white clear, it prepares the canvas. The southwest wind is black damp, it dirties that with clouds and rain.