We all carry certain landscapes with us throughout our lives: places that have left the deepest impressions. For me, one such place is San Martino di Castrozza. Every corner of it, every mountain ridge, seems to tell me stories, beautiful memories from years long past, and, fortunately, from more recent times as well.
When a place means this much to us, we wish it could remain forever unchanged, exactly as we first knew it. But that is impossible. And so, each time we return, there is always a trace of apprehension. What will they have built in the meantime? Will they finally have managed to disfigure a place that, one way or another, has so far escaped unscathed?