Dreaming of Il Postino

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I watched Il Postino again last night after more than ten years and it rekindled my love affair with Italian fishing villages. (And Pablo Neruda, of course.) I'm dreaming of bike rides in the mountains, long walks on rocky beaches, and people-watching in tiny osterias. The Aeolian Islands, off the coast of Sicily, are just magical. 

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"And it was at that age...Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me."
-Pablo Neruda