forioscribe

Before the sun appears from behind Mt. Epomeo I take my coffee to the terrace and look down at the still-sleeping village of Forio. Gleaming jewels amid the alabaster ornaments scattered about the greenery. To the left is the tuffa villa of the old lady who died last year. It's still empty. From time to time someone comes in an Ape and loads boxes into the building's basement, then drives off.