In Lotzorai, where the hill of Tracucu gives way to the first fields of the plain, the outcropping rock preserves the square openings of the Fund'e Monti necropolis.
More than just a cemetery, this granite and schist ridge presents itself as an underground quarter where Neolithic families dug their eternal dwelling place for generations.
The visual impact is rigorous. The stone was bitten into with hard-stone picks to carve out chambers ranging from single cells to short labyrinths preceded by atriums and corridors. On the entrances remain the rebates necessary to fit the closing doors, while the smoothing of the walls demonstrates the technical mastery of those who knew how to transform a block of raw rock into an orderly and protected room.
There is no external monumentality nor display of height. Everything develops inward, in the belly of the earth, a short distance from the watercourses and agricultural paths that sustained the living. Utilized for centuries up to the Bronze Age, Fund'e Monti shows how the communities of Lotzorai chose to place their deceased right at the border between the mountainous relief and the cultivable plain.
