8yo 14yo Sisters Marzia Enza 80

The hallway of their coastal Italian home smelled of lemon wax and sea salt. For Marzia, eight years old and perpetually in motion, the house was a kingdom of hiding spots. For fourteen-year-old Enza, it was becoming a cage.

Enza looked at her little sister—hair a bird’s nest of tangles, knees permanently scabbed from climbing the terrace walls. She imagined them decades later: two old women, Marzia and Enza, sitting on this same sun-drenched porch. Marzia would probably still be talking too fast, and Enza would probably still be trying to capture the light. 8yo 14yo Sisters Marzia Enza 80