Fragments that last: the Muretto of Alassio
The Muretto in Alassio has always moved me because it began almost in secret. The first tiles were set at night, without permits, by Mario Berrino together with Ernest Hemingway, in front of the Caffè Roma. A spontaneous, almost clandestine gesture that over time became a shared memory.
Walking past that wall covered with signatures, handprints, dedications and fragments of lives, I stopped in front of Vladimir Luxuria’s tile. In Italian, it reads: “All walls will fall sooner or later. The little wall of love will remain.”
There is something in that sentence that goes beyond tourism, beyond celebrities, beyond photographs: the idea that certain human traces, left almost as a game or out of a need to be there, can outlast the walls themselves.
