hate this parade, this superficial delusion of what our village is, of what Italy is! A fever dream of Armani, Ferrari, and Aperol, when, in reality, none of us can afford those things. We struggle and suffocate under a corrupt parliament and politics, sky-high taxation, population implosion, unemployment and poverty, and I’m tired of the poetic lie that we are solely a land of art and cuisine and culture. We are more complex than a villa-with-a-view-and-a-pool holiday! The truffle is who we are—not sitting on a velvet pillow in a castle, but a force of nature finding its way out of the dirt.”
