Da Luigi ai Faraglioni

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Capri afternoons
When I think about Da Luigi ai Faraglioni, I have vague recollections of wine and pasta, sun and flip flops. It's like trying to remember to a dream, but I can only remember fleeting moments like sunburns and happiness. I guess what I am saying is that Da Luigi is dreamlike, a mirage stuck between some large rocks. It is that place that you keep trying to return to, that dream you keep trying to remember.

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