Summer is well on its way in Italy. It's 6:30 a.m. The sand is still cool under my feet and the sun has almost finished rising behind the stillness of the Adriatic sea. The breeze carries the scent of oleanders, pine trees and magnolias.
It wasn't until I'd discovered that the doctor who extracted them had written a bestselling autobiography in 1938 that I realized there was a book waiting to be written about the curious doctor and his collection.