A tagliatelle tale of travel
The sun is out, a bright halo in a brilliantly blue sky. The air is crisp, cold enough to refresh the lungs but not so cold that I can’t feel the sun’s warmth on my face. The light is bright behind my closed lids. My cheeks are flushed, maybe from the wind whipping my face as I rode down the mountain, or maybe from the third aperol spritz I just finished. »