The way I see it, Castelmuso no longer has medieval walls, but invisible walls that contain nothing.
December 9th.
I live on the hill, where the view embraces slices of sea and stretches of mountains, the valleys separating the water from the rock. How can such a superb place, of timeless beauty, contain so much poop?
"So, what do you think?"
"It's not serious, Rinaldo."
"Come on, Daisy. Just pick the most important steps, right? Go on, tell me you agree and I'll get right on with the publication."
"This time, don't let your optimism get in the way, and don't let that persuasive little voice that doesn't suit you. I said it's off. Stop."
Rinaldo Duranti had puffed impatiently, spreading his arms towards two collaborators concentrating on taking notes, as if he meant: ʺYou see? It's
