DAMIEN
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We went to Italy.
Stepped off the plane into air that smelled like sunshine and ancient stone, to a sun-drenched villa, and everything looked so beautiful, the vines heavy with grapes, the terracotta roof tiles warm in the light, and I just wanted it all for us, for Elena and me.
We then did a 360.
Not literally, but it felt like it, back onto a plane heading north, to the Swiss Alps, to a ski chalet nestled high in the snow, and the air bit at my skin, clean and sharp, everything white and silent, except for the crunch of snow underfoot.
Months. They unfolded like a map, marked by the places we went, the different skies above us.
We moved from city to country, from heat to cold, leaving a trail of discarded boarding passes and shared pillowcases.
My life became a
