Sciacca and its many faces resembles a rock that has been carved by many sculptors. It’s a fascinating city, where different eras and cultures coexist, situated in a strategic location in the Mediterranean. I can taste its flavors, smell its fragrances and hear its sounds. Here every corner of the city tells a fairy tale, every monument beckons one to approach. It’s almost as though all these antiquities are still alive and not relegated to the past. I don’t stop to ask how old this place really is. Is it two-thousand maybe three-thousand-years-old? It can’t be! I walk along the streets but I am not alone. From the mists of history I am joined by many ordinary people, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Normans, Africans, Chinese, and Americans. Sciacca and its many faces. Here, the people are proud. Here, so many people have passed through, and others keep on passing, like an eternal and cyclical dance, forever changing, amidst the sounds of many voices, languages and dialects. Scia… scia… scia… that sound… scia… scia… scia… like the waves as they wash up against the rocks.