Olive trees. Slabs of marble. Intercity trains. Sleeping women in short black skirts. Thin dusty roads lined with orange trees.
Miles of green past Carrarra are the lavender homes of Massa Centro. Crowded train containers rattle the thoughts in head.
Locals sweat in tank tops and ripped denim shorts. We shift along the old tracks past hillside towns carefully placed on ridges. The red and white flashes past my window. A sleeping husband. Tanned women in tortoise shell sunglasses and silk tops. The low hum of the AC. We make our way through the red rooftop towns of Forte Dei Marmi. Broken restaurante signs. Old church towers and broken bells. Golden shutters. Industrial warehouses. Pietrasanta. The occasional stray dog.