- Written by Enrico di Palma
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He reached the ravine and clambered up over its muddy track and was on the slopes of the gigantic, mammoth hill of Mango. The black woods which seemed to be carbonised, leant over him undulatingly, and the open, fleetingly glimpsed grassy slopes on some of which herds were grazing, appeared as high and motionless as a pile of wandering boulders stopped by a miraculous hand in the midst of the vertiginous hillsides.
(Beppe Fenoglio, Johnny the Partisan)