We pulled over right before the sun set—in between towns—with our bottles of Chianti to take a dip in the lake and to soak in and the kind of sun that makes you believe in past lives. One by one, more cars, mopeds, and bikes stopped and joined us. People shared whatever they had—olives, figs, and bottles appearing out of nowhere. A local named Enzo pulled his accordion out of the trunk - we stumblingly learned a new dance, drank straight from the bottle, then fit a candle in it once it was empty, its glow shining like one of the stars we eventually slept under.

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