chapter one

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 summer of 1983

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summer of 1983.

it was a hot late morning. i was in my parents car, driving to a house full of people i didn't even know, to spend my whole summer at a small city, in the northern of italy, who no one had ever heard about before.

my parents had told me that it as a paradise, full of nature and lakes, beautiful sunsets, large trees with apricots, where the sun could illuminate your skin in the most stunning way, where you could just stay outside reading a book and not think about anything else.

my parents seemed to knew a couple that lived there, who supposedly had the most precious house in all of the area. it was a place of reunion, where people could play volleyball and bathe in the sun for all summer long, or at least that was what my parents had tried to sold me.

the couple, who weren't just simply friends of my parents, where also obsessed about welcoming people that where in university into their house to spend some weeks every summer, to help them study or write essays and books.

they also had a son, who was surprisingly my age, named Elio.

i was home schooled since birth, so my lack of friendships wasn't really a surprise, and since both of his parents and mine were professors, it seemed like a great opportunity for them to share their experiences and knowledge, and for us to, let's say, socialize.

so, here i was, five minutes away from elio's house, not knowing what to expect from the only summer i would spend being seventeen.

"lilian, es-tu réveillé, mon amour?"("lilian, are you awake, my love?)

oh, did i forgot to mention?

my parents are half italian, half french, half american, so long story short, i live a life in three different languages, just like elio, i guess.

"we've just arrived, doesn't it look as nice as i told you, lia?" my mother said looking at the back of the car with a big smile.

it was, by far, the most beautiful place i'd ever seem.

full of trees, of light, of laughs in the distance, it reminded me of the places that were described on my poetry books, but i wasn't gonna give that satisfaction to mum, not just as soon as we had arrived.

"ça n'a pas l'air aussi bien que paris, mais c'est pas mal"(it doens't look as well as paris, but it isn't bad")

my mum didn't even erase the littlest sign of her huge smile, and she got out of the car and helped my dad with the luggage.

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