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June 20, 2012
We were standing on one end of a shallow dip in the hill, covered with a golden meadow on its way down, and with verdant vineyards on the upswell. The two parts were divided by a chalky road, which itself trickled to the left and down, into the wide, green valley below. There, orange roofed houses could be seen, huddling around their church towers, or scattered like so much grain. Above them, the hills rose, their shoulders blue and green, heaving higher and higher with each consecutive row, the final sentiels standing wide and tall, their heads in the clouds.