AltoBasso

Between the jet-black lava rocks and the pale, wind-lashed grass stood the hut, as though the landscape had forgotten it there or preserved it as a secret repository of silence. As I crossed the threshold, the first creak of the door sounded like a deep,...

A warm promise - that is how "Last Season | Meo Fusciuni" was conceived. Yet whoever pushes open the - unexpectedly - final door' will find hardly anything warm and lovely behind it. Earthy depth, bitter shadows and the cool dampness of an old vault. The...