Picture a lonely prisoner who, through the bars of his cell, can glimpse nothing but the endless blue of the sea and a tiny white house perched on the shore. In his mind that house becomes a whole future: he names the imagined woman inside Maria, dreams of slipping a ring on her hand, and fills the long years with tender conversations that never really happen. The song follows his vivid daydreams as they swell into an almost tangible promise of libertà—freedom, love, a walk through a sparkling city at night—while time quietly steals his youth and sight.
Fiorella Mannoia’s voice turns this simple scene into a bittersweet movie: we feel the thrill of hope, the ache of waiting, and the final, haunting moment when the dream dissolves back into the vast blue. It is a poetic reminder that the mind can build dazzling worlds even in captivity, yet it also shows how hope, when left unanswered, can fade like a horizon at sunset.