Lake Como reveals itself gradually from the winding road that carries them down from the airport, each turn opening another quiet glimpse of water and stone and terraced gardens that seem suspended between mountain and sky. The long flight has left Willow softly tired again, but the sight of the lake draws something lighter into her expression, a calm curiosity that replaces the fatigue she had felt stepping off the plane.
The afternoon light rests gently across the water, turning its surface into shifting bands of silver and blue that reflect the steep green slopes rising on either side. Villages cling to the mountainsides in pale stone and warm plaster, their narrow streets and shuttered windows layered above one another as though built carefully over centuries of patient living.
