Now, we light the fire in the forno a legna, set to bake the traditional lasagna and goat. Luigi mows grass by the loggia. Luciana lays the table for eighteen with brightly colored plates, jugs of homemade wine and a huge bouquet cut from the yard. We set out the antipasti all made here on the farm sausages, cheeses, olives and vegetables covered by a sheet. The guests arrive and greetings come in German, Italian, English and Russian.
Night drapes itself over roofs, beds, tents or people on the ground.
We had promised. Not the ovens of Hitler, oh, not again. Poetry pages designed by Alicia Bessette.