This is my village. Can you see how the sun reflects off the walls and red terracotta roofs? Doesn’t it look peaceful, at the foot of that mountain, far from the rat-race and the trauma of urban living? A haven of tranquillity, a place where its inhabitants, all 150 of them on a full-time basis, can reside in perfect harmony.
But look again. You can’t see the mountain on the other side of the valley, which hides the sun for months of the year, leaving the village in a cold shadow during winter. Nor can you see the plotting that goes on behind closed doors and in those narrow streets; a soap opera churning out daily doses of edge-of-your-seat intrigue.
The village is a miniature planet earth, where sadness and madness cohabit with love and love unrequited, and where ‘love thy neighbour’ can mean unrivalled generosity… or ‘see you in court’. Because for each person who gives his heart to the community, there is another who would give his soul to destroy it.
Life in this village is as dramatic as the countryside that surrounds it.