““ Benvenuta a la Via dell’Amore,” he says, poking a bright pink lock with Ashlee + Jake written on it in white paint. “What are all the locks for?” “Do you know the history of la Via dell’Amore?” I know a little, but I’d rather hear it from him, so I shake my head and he continues. “When this path between Riomaggiore and Manarola was not here, many people did not marry outside of their own village. But with the, ah, connection to the next village, love was exciting again. Lovers walked along the seaside here to meet with one another.” I take in the view as we stroll the crowded path. High cliffs stretch up to our right, with sections of loose rock held down by wire mesh, padlocks hooked onto every wire within reaching distance. To our left, the Ligurian Sea--clear and bright, blue and green--glimmers in the afternoon sun. Fishing boats and passenger ferries race along the coast. The temptation to take pictures of every detail around me is strong, but that would require letting go of Bruno’s hand, and I’m not sure I want to just yet. I’m curious to see how long he’ll hold it. “The locks are for the tourists, a symbol of love for all to see, for the eternity. Until they are cut down.” I gape at him. “Cut down?” He laughs. “ Si. This path would be nothing but locks if they were not taken away.””
