"The sun shines on these hills, a reflection of grills and pools that I had forgotten. Here the heat more than descends from the sky, it comes from below - from the earth, from the bottom among the vines that seem to have eaten all the green to go all in tendrils. It's a heat that I like, it smells: I am inside this smell too - I am inside so many harvests and haymaking and peeling, so many flavors and so many desires that I didn't know I had anymore."

Cesare Pavese

Poet • Italy • 20th century

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