Sofia held the wood to the light. It was smooth, smelling of linseed oil and ancient tides. A warmth spread from the wood into her palm. She didn't know how to describe the sudden feeling of peace—the way the rain outside didn't seem so cold anymore.

Marco chuckled, his voice like sandpaper on oak. He handed her the charm. "Magic is a big word for a small thing. But look at it closely."

In Italian culture, the love for simple things often starts in the kitchen; here is a look at a dish that many would say 'piase me' about:

In a narrow, salt-crusted alleyway of Venice, far from the flashing cameras of St. Mark’s Square, lived an old woodcarver named Marco. Marco didn’t make grand statues or ornate furniture; he spent his days carving small, wooden charms for the local children.