The Ciocco mountain has always been a place of life. Crossing it, there aren’t any places where the knowing hand of man hasn’t left a trace - the chestnut groves, planted to use the wood and fruit, the terracing, with vine and olive cultivation, the ruins of the metato (small buildings for drying chestnuts) and hamlets, telling stories of love for the land and migration. High up, dominating the park, the old primary school with the chimneys and wood stove, echoes with true life and desire to grow. Just close your eyes to find yourself back in this old world and hear the schoolmistress calling the children or the slow cantilena of a lullaby while the wood is transformed into heat for the community. Over the decades, someone has patiently collected the inheritance of past centuries to keep it alive and give it to the future. This is the Ciocco mountain, which has always lived and will continue to live, turning into a loving nest for the inhabitants of the world.