La Piazzetta Dress

Il Dolce Far Niente.

Upon your return, they will surely ask you what you were doing in Italy.
You will probably just shrug and say, “Niente.”
Nothing.
Sure, for nearly three months you roamed up and down the boot from Trentino-Alto Adige where the streets have German names to the piazzetta on Capri where you had your first limoncello.
Of course, there was Enzo’s father who taught you to dance the saltarello after everyone had far too many glasses of his Montepulciano.
You attempt (and fail) to describe the rustic simplicity of the pappardelle al cinghiale you had in Siena.
They will say it sure sounds like more than “nothing," but you understand.
The Italians call it “il dolce far niente”—the sweetness of doing nothing. Paolo was happy to demonstrate with espresso and an inordinate amount of doing nothing between sips.
It’s in the silence between the notes and the stillness between motion where you store your best moments.