The island lies in the Mediterranean and rises to 675 metres. An uncertain population of thirty to sixty people lives there year-round, with no hospital, cars, priests or police. Some islanders never consider leaving; others have tried, only to return to life in this remote bubble. Untold stories, complex family trees and historical lore surround the community, including accounts of hallucinogen-laced bread.
 
Bound in an unconventional book structure, Thinking Like an Island reflects on a geographical, social and temporal space, a system and its shifting logic. Avoiding the familiar portrayal of an island as either utopia or dystopia, it examines the ongoing construction of identity: conflict and coexistence, choice and confinement, innovation and resistance. The resulting experience is layered, plural and dense—a vertigo of increasing complexity.