“Bella macchina!” The chorus went up before I’d even been handed the spindly ignition key, echoing around the Milan Four Seasons’ vaulted carriage entrance. In the days ahead those two words would be constant companions, bellowed from bus-stops and café terraces, mouthed through rain-speckled glass and perennially accessorised with kissed fingertips.
“车子真漂亮！”
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