by Sam


Positano, what a dream. I’m not even sure if it’s a real place. The rainbow cliffs, the blue-green sea. The pastels. The perfect light. It’s alive and crisp. It’s in your face, crowded, a maze. The water is so vibrant and clear that you can see the seabed from the cliffs. The smell of floral, of lemon is inescapable.

We arrived via bus in the morning from Sorrento, only for an afternoon. I ate lemon cream gelato by the seaside, collected seaglass on the beach like a little girl, wandered the alleyways.

I don’t know how to describe it. I feel permanently attached. I need to come back.

“Positano bites deep. It is a dream place that isn’t quite real when you are there and becomes beckoningly real after you have gone.”

– John Steinbeck