Towards the north, among verdant valleys many lakes lie, and woods surround steep and winding roads, small towns that are so simple and so full of warmth, in the evening, in the pubs, next to a painted fireplace or at the wooden table, before it suddenly disappears on the highest peaks, where stony paths recline on the ridge exposed to the wind. Place of poets, writers and painters, place of footsteps imprinted on the ground, while eyes of dreamers get lost on profiles of the mountains through innumerable color gradations of color and undefined reflections diluted on the flat water of a lake.