scalloped edge layer

Rolling down the luscious Tuscan hillside, we take in the unmistakable landscape that unfolds before us. Time stands still amongst the chianti vineyards, hills of blond wheat and rows of cypress trees as we reach the majestic Castel Monastero. I close my eyes. I feel a gentle breeze from the vineyards that bring with it the fragrant scent of wild flowers and olive trees. Harmonic, still, elegant. We are home.Here, in Italy, I am vibrant and boundless. No plans, just possibilities. Every wrong turn is a detour in the right direction and every misstep is just more magic waiting to happen.In the backstreets of Rome, I scribble love notes to myself and the world on cobblestones and napkins. I unfurl beneath painted ceilings, flanked by flocks of doting cherubs. In Milan, I dance to street musicians playing my song and play the muse for poets and artists.My hair curls and crinkles fresh out of the Amalfi every morning. I leap from too-high rocks into the endless ocean and charm my way onto the backseat of a stranger’s vespa. From Ravello to Positano, to Capri and to Sorrento. An infinite loop of summer sensations.My Italy, Amore Mio.