We’re lucky. Yes, we, the Italians, are lucky, somehow, you can’t deny it.

First you can be sure that every day at least one person is playing mandolin, then you can be sure that there are not meatballs on the Bolognese, finally I swear and sign with my blood that winter is short and you can have a warm and sunny day, a perfect day for getting marry, even in September, and there no need to summon the disco magic powers of Earth Wind and Fire.

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