Corsica writes itself alone, alone it reads itself. Where am I on this Moebius strip, where I can guess the time that trembles under the transparent skin of the island, and where I can see, on this same skin, the prosaic and magical theater of a thousand emotional tattoos, other forms and forces of existence, a scene upon a scene, upon which play the flaming shadows of the villagers as, sunlike, they stand upright and yet incline towards the mystery? Qualcosa c'hè [there is something]. © 2014 by the Institute for Ethnographic Research (IFER) a part of the George Washington University. All rights reserved.