Qualche secondo di felicità pura

I’ve just been for a swim and now I’m sitting on the crowded beach below my house. There’s no need for a towel. In a few minutes, thanks to the strength of the evening sun and the salty sea breeze, I’ll be dry. Wet sand, made up of tiny grains of pink granite, slides through the gaps between my toes. From somewhere in the pink and white oleanders that separate us from the road, I can hear the heady hum of cicadas. But only just. Drowning them out are the happy squeals of nut brown Italian children playing in the sea, singing their national anthem as they dive in and out of the water.

As you know, my love affair with Sardinia blows hot and cold. In winter, I often think we're done for good. But then, I snatch a few moments like these - moments that city living in Milan, Bologna, Liverpool or Paris could never give me - and I wonder why I'd ever want to leave.