Part One: The Golf Ball
‘What else am I supposed to do’, he says, his voice angry and cracking. ‘You expect me to sit in front of some cafe with a bunch of the boys and await my own death? Is that what you want?’ more
An insider’s intimate love letter to the voluptuous yet lucid wines crafted here in the today's italian south
‘What else am I supposed to do’, he says, his voice angry and cracking. ‘You expect me to sit in front of some cafe with a bunch of the boys and await my own death? Is that what you want?’ more
as 'workers of the soil', or 'terrrone', the pejorative for anyone from the south has recently been reclaimed here as the pin on which we hang our modern, collective identity. our cultural heritage is different, our ethnic-make up, our world view. our land. our food.
and you can taste all of this in every drop of our wine.

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