It is 1965. Young Giacamo is just getting ready to head home from his Sunday afternoon ride through the Alps about Bologna. But off to the left he sees the girl picking flowers. He knows her, so he stops, but he cannot believe his eyes. It seemed so recently that she was just a child. Of course, so recently was he.
Maria Sofia is happy to see him. He too is not at all the boy she remembered, the boy who used to chase her in the olives groves. He is a man now, so she does not comment on the fact that she is taller than him. And truly he is a gentle man, for he says nothing to the fact that her Monza is painted in the most ridiculous contrasting colors.
I just found these in my pile. It's a little bit curved at the left and right ends but otherwise perfect. The card measures about 7" x 5". Photographic quality is better than my photo suggests. I have a handful of them.
