How to Love the Beauty of Decay

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Chi non crede all’amore non crede in Dio

Whoever does not believe in love does not believe in God

- WWII era graffiti in Naples bomb shelter

I wouldn’t tell you the name of the street if I knew it.

You have to find it. Every writer and con artist knows that you need to let people earn it. Make them do half the work, and they’ll convince themselves.

It’s tucked away in the warren of narrow alleys that make up this most ancient of cities. An area where bags are clutched tight and tourists are scarce. The black flagstones are worn smooth by the steps of generations of Neapolitans, and scooters and cars weave and muscle their way through gesticulating pedestrians with noisy good humor. Another anarchic corner of this anarchic city, already founded when Rome was a malarial swamp. The soft volcanic rock beneath the city is bored through with tunnels made by Greeks, and by Romans, enlarged by medieval water carriers and converted into bomb shelters during World War II.

Any place that has lived so long and so brightly will have its dark corners. Naples is a city of secrets. Martyred Christians and 1940s partisans have each left their marks on the lightless walls. Under the city streets, there’s a darkness that has gone unchallenged…