I am reluctant to tell anyone about this magical place, an hotel high in the hills to the south of Florence. These photos tell only part of the story; it is like staying in the house of someone like Guiseppe di Lampedusa. It's usually almost completely empty and one only rarely sees a member of staff. There are dark bars full of the arms of long-perished families -the house was built by a friend of Dante's - and breakfast is served on a shady terrace, but there is no restaurant. The rooms look out over the city or back to the cypress-cloaked hills behind. It's a place of perfect peace.
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