The window display was a fascinating chaos of forgotten objects, and in the center, in a small box of faded blue velvet, there it was: a coral necklace, a warm, vivid red, like certain sunrises over the sea. I entered almost without realizing it.

The owner, a kind older man, told me that the necklace belonged to a young woman who lived in Siderno many years ago. He couldn’t tell me much more, but something about that object had already captivated me. I bought it.

Later, at the hotel, as I opened the box, I found a letter hidden under the velvet. It was fragile and yellowed, written in an elegant hand. A man declared his love to a girl who lived in a villa in Siderno, describing a magical place: a fragrant citrus grove, a small balcony overlooking the silence, and a voice singing, thinking it wasn’t being heard.

Those words struck me so deeply that I impulsively decided to go to Siderno. The town wasn’t far; in fact, its location immediately captivated me. It was very close to the sea, but a few streets away was enough to find yourself immersed in a green, hilly landscape. A perfect balance between coast and tranquility.

Walking through the streets of the historic center, I noticed a palm-lined avenue. I stopped. At the end of the avenue, an ancient iron gate opened onto a three-story villa. Each story was different: one simple and austere, another ornate, and the top… elegant, with a small flower-filled balcony.

“Each one is different, like you sisters, and the last one bears your grace and looks out alone, like me, to listen to your melodious voice.”

Those words were in the letter. I had no doubt: that was the house.

A man was pruning the garden. A gardener. I approached, and he saw my curiosity and invited me in. As we walked among the abandoned citrus trees and overgrown paths, he told me the history of the villa. It had belonged to a noble family, then stood empty for decades. Now it was for sale.

“It needs a lot of work,” he told me. “But the structure is solid, and the potential… is immense, and what’s more, the land is buildable.”

He was right. The rooms, though dusty, retained original details: terrazzo floors, frescoed ceilings, wrought-iron railings. The garden was a forgotten treasure, with centuries-old trees and the scent of the sea just steps away, and those two semi-ruined buildings behind the villa—so many things could be done.
I immediately thought of the possibilities: a boutique hotel, luxury apartments, a sprawling resort, a place for creative retreats or weddings surrounded by greenery, with the beach less than a five-minute walk away. Siderno is strategic: convenient transport links, growing tourism, a mild climate year-round.

As I climbed to the third floor, I reached the small balcony. I stopped. The wind barely moved the dusty curtains. I looked at the horizon and closed my eyes. I could almost hear that voice, faint, singing a forgotten melody.

Perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence that that necklace had come to me.

And perhaps this vacation wasn’t just meant to relax me…