Scaia

To the east of Lombardy lies Veneto. This summer, ten years have passed since my last visit to Italy, something that feels incredibly strange given how often I used to go there in the past. With its rich tastes of chocolate and tobacco, I take a sip of Scaia, as if the decadence of coffee and strawberries would not be enough.

As often, I wonder who actually reads all this nonsense? Maybe no one does and it is just my own way of chronicling existence in the last decade of this century to not have a straightforward name. Soon, we will all be talking about the "early twenties" as the most natural thing in the world. Nevertheless, if you do happen to read, feel free to drop me an e-mail for suggestions of where you want me to take Rawls & Me in the months ahead.