I was wandering around the roads of Gran Sasso and didn't have anything special to photograph in my mind. Just exploring the area where I hadn't been before, I spotted a dilapidated building at the bottom of a fjeld that caught my interest. I parked my car and walked surprisingly long downhill to the bottom. While I was walking down, the air was filled with the distant melody of cowbells, orchestrating a symphony of rustic charm.
There, in the embrace of the Italian landscape, I witnessed a scene straight out of a cinematic dreamscape. A herd of cattle, guided by a yelling herdsman, was a living canvas of motion and sound. The crack of his whip and the chorus of cowbells echoed through the valley.
We had a little chit-chat with the herdsman; our linguistic exchange was more of a delightful pantomime than a consistent conversation. My lack of Italian fluency became a minor obstacle in the moment. Undeterred, I became an unintentional follower, walking over a mile, until the realization struck—I had left my car behind.
This misadventure, born from intuition, became one of those memorable chapters in my life. A spontaneous step into the unknown where the unexpected became the highlight.
