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I hold you, dearly

An Ode to Alba

The hills were masked by a dense, grey voile. A barrage of rain had burst the horizon and there was no sign of retreat. This wasn’t the picturesque Piedmont of Barolo and endless summers they had dreamt of.

From their elevated vantage point, the day breathed a sigh of acceptance. Indistinct vehicles flowed along the arteries of endless vineyards. The landscape was alive and the air was thick with anticipation and romanticism.

Lola had seen it all before. Unfazed by her surroundings and the presence of strangers, her unrelenting gaze held firm. It spoke of companionship and focus, of stewardship and duty. She radiated a beautiful calmness.

Destination unknown, they travelled in convoy. Somewhere down there was treasure. Somewhere down there was a place full of wonder. The cloud broke, the sun showed its face like it was the first time. Filipe raised a smile.

A Modern Italian in the heart of Clerkenwell