Cast your mind back to a random Tuesday thirty years ago. It doesn't take much effort to still smell the coffee drifting out of the bars that never closed, or hear that constant hum of conversation bouncing off the buildings of Via Garibaldi. In the 1990s, La Maddalena didn’t need to wait for summer to feel alive. It was an island that breathed deeply twelve months a year, possessing an energy that, in...
