I’ll Always Marvel At The

If You've Got A Plot The Size Of A Car Or A Tiny Yard In Italy, You're Going To Be Growing Tomatoes And Basil And Celery And Carrots, And Everybody Is Still Connected To The Land.

It’s Daunting To Find The Language So Foreign, So Distant, But Also So Thrilling. One Is Absolved Of Responsibility When The Language Is Incomprehensible.

The Undulent Landscape Looks Serene In Every Direction. Honey-colored Farmhouses, Gently Placed In Hollows, Rise Like Thick Loaves Of Bread Set Out To Cool.

The Only Thing More Surprising Than The Chance She's Taking... Is Where It's Taking Her.

The Words 'forse Che Si,' 'forse Che No', 'perhaps Yes,' 'perhaps No,' Repeat Along All Paths.