Ours is a long story.
We come from a land of fields and ditches, of harsh rolling plains; patchworked countryside
and metal metayers; of thick fog, of long winters and sweltering summers, of broad-shouldered folk, ones of strong hands and fine minds,
of family sagas which now and then grow into industrial sagas, like the stuff that Bertolucci’s films or Biagi’s short stories are made of.
A land of striking loves and passion, of complex relationships, like that between Don Camillo
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and Peppone, of the sublime high notes of Pavarotti, of lives lived out for a bet or fordesperation, as told in the songs of Guccini, or lives
lived in the fast lane as told by Vasco Rossi. A rugged but peace-loving race, both outside and in, kneaded together like the finest tagliatelle,
which cannot but maintain the bitter-sweetness of this land, which the long via Emilia snakes through as the mainframe of the heart and soul of
the people who live here.
We are these men, living on a prayer and a glass of Lambrusco, forever in search of something different, something
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unique, something incredible.
Men out there to create the future, without worrying too much about the present, our thoughts always on the other side of the ditch before us.
Our world has honed our sense of passion, but we need to experience that passion first hand. This is the only way we can pass on the values and
concepts that make all the difference to what we do.
Peasants or technicians? Or wizards who transform blueprints into real things? And of course the things that come out of Modena are, first and
foremost, strong emotions.
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