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Rosetta's senses were immersed in the orchestra of mechanical roars and human exclamations as she strolled down the boisterous Monza Circuit. Engines rumbled, filling the air with a symphony of horsepower that reverberated against the grandstand walls as tyres screeched on the asphalt. Voices melded into a chorus of anticipation, resonating with the fervour of racing aficionados while the scent of burnt rubber lingered within the scorching Italian summer air.
Surrounded by the teeming sea of people dressed in red, she found herself enveloped in a symphony of human existence. The pulsating heartbeat of the tifosi echoed her own rhythm, the chatter around her became a comforting melody, and the shuffle of feet was a rhythmic dance she knew very well.
Her cousins, Luca and Elena, had flown across the azure expanse of the Adriatic Sea from their home in Greece to Italy for the singular purpose of watching and experiencing the Grand Prix.
The escapade was no mere whim, rather, it was the birthday gift their parents had promised them, and with the persuasive force only they could ever possess, the twins managed to coax Rosetta and her father into their methodically-planned shenanigans.
Not that they needed to be insistent, anyway.
Rosetta was never known to turn down an adventure.
Especially not a fully-funded one.
Rosetta's lips curved into a warm smile as she and her father trailed behind the twins down the Formula One Support Paddock with her ever-loyal Polaroid camera clutched in one hand. She opted to be a silent observer of their fervent discussion about junior racing categories, finding a peculiar amusement in the way their voices held that tinge of passion and animation and their hands punctuated their every point with enthusiasm.
Although nothing beat the way Elena's blue eyes lit up as she unendingly articulated her desire to meet an Arthur Leclerc—a Formula Two driver who, according to her, was one of the funniest and most genuine drivers on the grid.
It was honestly mesmerising to Rosetta, listening to her going on and on about how incredible of a person this Monégasque driver was off-track whilst showing her clips and bits of footage of him.
They paused sporadically as they encountered drivers and crew members within the vibrant chaos of the paddock, and with a deft hand, the Italian held her camera steady, her finger graciously clicking against the shutter to capture the moment for her cousins. Pictures were taken, signed, and then meticulously tucked away; a ritual woven seamlessly into the fabric of their journey amidst the motors' hum.
"Gigi!" Elena gasped unexpectedly, her gaze locking onto a silhouette in the distance. Her brown, braided hair swayed through the air as she turned towards Rosetta's father, a spark of excitement dancing in her eyes. "He's an FDA trainer, the drivers must not be far, come on!"
