Someone said to me of his Sicilian land: It is “amara”. Bitter. I told him I would say “raw.” He replied: This is the same. I sought out this raw edge during my time in Sicily and Naples. These photographs, then, are quotidien moments, quiet, turning away from the grand so to contemplate the qualities of what might be bitter—a taste that the Italians cultivate. It is with a sip of “amara” that one ends the traditional Italian meal.