Dear little Cigliano

Sitting on the vast plain between the Po and the Alps, Cigliano looks up to Mon Viso, the mountain of Paramount fame.  It is the quietest of towns, washed at this time with the spring rains that soak the rice fields of Vercelli. The Alps, still bright with snow,  hover above the horizon, as if not quite anchored to the earth.  There is something endearing about the streets of utterly plain rendered houses, with their stocks of firewood piled in the first floor sheds at the back of the yards.  Of the faces the houses present to the street, some are painted in colours that contrast incongruously with their simplicity.  More photographs to follow on return.