My name is Augusto, I come from Rome and I have been walking for seven days. All I carry with me is a worn cloak, a jug of wine, and the promise I made to Bacchus: to reach his sacred hills, those they call Euganean, to honor him on the longest night of the year. […]

That summer afternoon, my grandmother took my hand and we went to visit my aunt, “in the old house, which as you say has 100 eyes”. When we crossed the gate, under the very tall trees, I saw the house: imposing, with honey-colored walls and windows that shone in the sun, it’s always like this […]