Snow falls. We ride and time seems to slow down. All around us is surrounded by a surreal silence, and by a veil of unusual beauty. It’s as if Nature, amazed by so much sweetness coming down from the sky, became silent, for listening.
Snow falls. We ride and around us stretches of uncultivated fields smell good, regardless of the icy veil that caresses them. And down there, there are cows and horses and sheep and goats and even some pigs, free.
Snow falls. We ride in spite of the cold, making us kiss your face with the white flakes. The initial fear leaves for amazement and the desire to catch every wonder that this new country wants to give us. Not far from the border we see a large arch with a foreign inscription. The feeling that transmits is positive, and so we decide to stop and immortalize it in our mind.
Snow falls. We ride and only at the end of the day, when we have the opportunity to verify the translation, we learn that the phrase on the bow said: “you are on the way to the journey”. And so the circle of this day closes with a smile on our lips, and endless dreams in our thoughts.
