alle mie montagne.
to my mountains, that protect my small town of eight hundred people, where our food comes from the garden and animals are our friends.

where the smell of moss is more common than perfume and where my grandad’s hands are the truest thing you can find.

to my mountains, the Alps, the only place in the world that makes me feel myself, to the breeze and the snow that keep everything so poetical, to my chickens that every day give us eggs and to my tomato plants that provide us sauce for the entire year.