I wake up in an aura of light, immersed in lazy serenity and completely brainwashed of everything past. The wooden sun-blinds allow luminous paths on the fresh white linens, fairy dust dances in the light and a delicate rustle sings through the slightly open window. It is the silent music of cypresses and old olive trees, when you wake up at 9 past, at your Tuscan farm. Our home is secretly nestled on the hills near Monteriggioni, far from the world and deep into wonderland. It has views over the hills of Chianti Classico, Castellina and Greve at day and the starriest sky over at night.