A warm wind caresses my face, reaching me through the dark, straight pines against a pallid twilight sky. The valley darkens in the evening and the hills stand out in clear profile upon a rosy, tender and indescribable backdrop. The houses sprinkled on the wide green hips of the woods and the plains seem to rest in sweet freshness. Only far-far away in the west where the valley opens and where extends the long blue chain of mountains, does the immense horizon still blaze with a rosy hue.
Cesare Pavese