Summer 1983, somewhere in Northern Italy…

Ah… dinner drudgery. You know it, your brother, Elio knows it. Just that today, it isn’t dinner drudgery, but lunch drudgery.

Your father, Samuel, is a wise man. Everything and anything is a topic at the table over wine and charcuterie. A typical summer afternoon at the villa. Friends and neighbors listen as your father enthusiastically waves with his hands, explaining something about the Greeks, something Roman… ah, something about the origins of the word apricot!

You don’t care much, nor does Elio. It’s hot, the sun’s beating relentlessly down on the garden and the fluttering leaves of the peach trees don’t really shield you either. Elio, sat next to you, is chewing his bottom lip, just as eager to get to the pool, or inside the old villa, or anywhere, really, away from lunch. Finally, Samuel’s kind, hazel eyes fall onto you two.

“My beautiful children! How about your input, hm?”

Your father chimes and Elio sinks lower into his chair. Your turn to engage, great…