This large tract of Lava which thanks to the works of repair can be
crossed in a carriage, has cut the town in two. From this point the
streets begin again to be quiet and the houses to be inhabited, normal
life seems to reign every where.
Here is Citarella street, here is Giordano street with its green
orchards, and the dogs sleeping on the thresholds of the houses, and
the old people bathing in the sun. But suddenly another branch of lava
is standing in front of you, it is the one that has invaded the other
side of the Oratorio cutting the communication with Tre Case.
It has sneaked in the town, getting in the lanes, through the
orchards, assaulting the houses from behind, reversing itself from
the ground-floors against which the wave has struck. I see a house
completely surrounded and taken by the lava, quite in front of
Pagliarella street, it is the house of a certain Giuseppe Principini.
The first floor has fallen in, the lava has penetrated through a
window at the shoulders of the house, it has invaded the first room,
it has filled the second, it has made the floor fall in, and has then
reversed itself down in a cascade which has remained petrified, looking
almost like a fantastic bridge of black scories, gracefully modelled
on bronze. Another little room near is full of lava up to the windows.
Among the black masses, a little twisted serpent peeps out. It is all
that remains of a bed stead. The wall near the house is dry, the water
has evaporated, before the fire touched it.