Each day the same white shirt and light jean overalls. impeccably clean, ready to become freshly dirtied each night. Each day he drives in his small white car to collect branches, which he ties in bundles to his roof, to fuel the last wood burning bread oven in Spoleto, a small town in central Italy. Each day bags of flour and buckets of water are combined, needed, rolled and dusted, lovingly placed in large wooden cradle-like troughs to rest and rise, before they are transported on a large wooden paddle to be goldened and crisped in hot wooden embers of the brick oven. With no language in common, long hours were filled with gestures, shutter clicks and surprisingly comfortable silence.