Este, Veneto 35042

My name is Augusto, I come from Rome and I have been walking for seven days. All I carry with me is a worn cloak, a jug of wine, and the promise I made to Bacchus: to reach his sacred hills, those they call Euganean, to honor him on the longest night of the year. They say that up there, among vineyards that touch the sky, the god still descends among men. They say that whoever dances until dawn will receive as a gift a year of pure joy. I followed the Postumia road, then veered north where the mountains become gentle and you can smell wild grapes before seeing them. Yesterday I crossed an oak forest. Today, shortly after noon while the sun burned my neck and my shoes were reduced to tatters, I spotted a villa. Its not like those I know in Romeclosed and severe. This one is open and generous. It seems to rise from the very earth itself as if its walls are roots and its roof a branch reaching towards the sun. I approached it. The garden stretched out before me for an immense stretchI counted steps; perhaps ten thousand arms length of landall dotted with ancient olive trees and tall grass bending like a sea under the wind. I pushed open the wooden gate. It was not locked. Perhaps this was how God wanted it. I entered. Immediately I discovered stairs leading down to an underground level. Driven by curiosity, I followed them and found myself in a large tavern. ItS dark and cool with an enormous fireplace still smelling of burnt wood. I thought about winter nights when snow covers hills outside while we drink warm inside telling stories till midnighta place for gods of wine and friendship. I went back upstairs where two immense halls awaited melarge as temples filled with windows looking out over hillsides into plains below us all aroundin one hall at center stood an ovena low wide hearth where bread could be baked or meat roasted for entire tribes! My hand rested upon stoneit felt warm! Someone had lit fire just hours ago! Further ahead lay kitchen big tidy next door stands room lined stone tubs water channelsthe laundry room once women scrubbed tunics singing songs together here long ago too! But what struck most beautiful came exiting through doors beyond kitchens descending stairways leads onto porchway standing threshold breath taken away entirely stunned sight greeted eyes vast expanse opened wide before gaze stretching far off distance Colli Euganei unfolded fan-like green purple beneath afternoon sunlight terraced vineyards cypress groves distant villages perched high peaks above valleys belowthoughts raced If Bacchus resides anywhere surely must be here. Climbing first floor found sleeping quarters spacious bright each bathroom private little terrace facing south imagined resting lying bed window ajar sweet scent linden flowers drifting softly within silence enveloped surroundings close miles removed noise Forum chariots market cries man might sleep never slept quite so soundly ever before now?! Returned again gardens wandered amongst olive trees dozens mine own if only villa belonged true heart fully claimed ownershipand filled jug clear spring waters hidden rocks nearby sat drank watched slow sinking sun behind hilltops fading quickly dusk approaching rapidly fall evening shadows cast longer darker hues painting landscape across fields everywhere near surrounding lands beckoning forth magic moments arise soon enough festivities commence tonight yet higher ground awaits bonfires already blazing drums beating rhythmically echoing throughout valley floorsbut something keeps holding tight right here snug safe haven welcomed warmly embraced feeling cherished deeply nurtured soulfully whole-heartedly connected somehow inexplicably boundless spirit alive thriving vibrant essence radiating warmth love flowing freely unconditionally shared openly without restraint whatsoever present moment captivating attention drawing nearer deeper understanding unfolding continuously revealing layers truths concealed previously unknown depths wa