No blue sea, no blue of the Blue Grotto. Photographer Umberto D'Aniello's Capri is not colorful. Black-and-white is the pattern of the loading hatch of the ferry at the quay, black-and-white the panorama with Ischia in the background, the Piazza in Capri city, the little streets of Anacapri. The rocks look like sea sculptures, like black paper torn on a white backdrop.
Like the photographer is also Claretta Cerio, the writer from the beloved island itself. She quotes the few querulants ("Damned blue lemonade" said Brecht) talks about Capromania and about the Capreses by choice. From Malaparte and his "Casa come me" (house like me), about Swedish doctor Munthe, about the unhappy emperor Tiberius which spent his last eleven years on Capri. Talks about Cossacks which conquered, about painters which stayed, and the daily invasion of tourists. The wanderer of Italy, Ferdinand Gregorious, closed his visit in 1853 with a view up to Monte Solara over the Gulf of Naples and the "great order of nature". D'Aniello and Cerio simply go back to the start, to the quay of Marina Grande, where those that leave meet those that come.
