The tiny, leafy terrace looks out over the lake. Across from us is another small island, Isola Madre. The world has yet to fully wake up. Everything feels morning fresh.
We are alone on the sunny breakfast patio of a small hotel on a 400 metre long island populated by fishermen.
Diego, the hotel’s supremely knowledgeable jack of all trades, has laid out a breakfast to match the beauty of the surroundings.
Blood red Sicilian orange juice, croissants, muesli, fresh bread, ham and cheeses, melon, papaya and pineapple… plus a steaming jug of wonderful, life-giving Italian coffee.
It is perfect. The view is perfect. The island is perfect.
And it feels like we have it all to ourselves.
This is what sighs were created for.