The opening of Leonardo Sciascia’s “Candido, ovvero un sogno fatto in Sicilia” (“Candido, or a Dream Made in Sicily”) reads: “Candido Munafò was born in a cave, vast and deep, at the foot of an olive-covered hill, on the night of July 9–10, 1943.” That cave, ideally located in the territory of Serradifalco, evokes the gypsum landscape and the ancient sulfur mines that for decades shaped the face of the Nisseno hinterland: a place of work and hardship where sulfur extraction intertwined with daily life, in a harsh but solidarity-rich environment. Here, Sciascia captures both the classical symbolism of birth in a cave, a sign of an extraordinary destiny, and the historical reality of a village that, on the tragic night of the Allied landing, witnessed a child being born while the world around him was about to change irreversibly. This opening pays immediate homage to the roots and contradictions of Sicily, a land that, between light and shadow, still preserves the charm of a suspended time in its caves and olive groves.