Lino D'oro

Cool linen. Old stone.

 The bite of citrus wind. The morning is quiet, save for the rustle of linen drying in a breeze that carries sea salt and lemons. Somewhere nearby, a stone villa exhales citrus peels and sun-warmed olives and citrus peel. The kind of pause that doesn't ask to be broken. It smells like stillness after a simple, beautiful beginning.