A forgotten village.

I was riveted today. By the scene in Ingurtosu. A more or less abandoned village. In a spectacularly beautiful mountainous region of Sardinia. I was trying to imagine ghosts. Or spirits. Of coal miners that used to live there. No more coal mining in Sardinia. So the places where the miners lived have been abandoned. For decades. And the buildings have decayed. But walls still stand. Like an ancient ruin. A silent testament to what used to be. But one building still looks sturdy. And spiffy. Windows still intact. Architecturally superior and better constructed than anything provided to miners. Yes, it contained the administrative offices of the mining company. And living accommodations for the executives. Anyway, I stood there. Marveling at what I was seeing. As my true love walked further up the road. To take in more of the town. I watched as she became a speck against a 25-foot tall, three-foot thick stone wall built along the entry roadway to Ingurtosu. Maybe just to stabilize the hill on which many of the housing structures were built. I think the town still has a few residents. Because I saw people go in and out of some newer buildings. But there are no businesses. No reason to provide services such as restaurants or super markets. No more miners. But I thought to myself, it’d be a wonderful place to live. Quiet. Secluded. I could sit down. And write. About a forgotten village. Little wonder that it’s made my personal list of Paradises . –Jim Broede