The Voice of the Fog: how Whispered Green was born

Some things begin with a phone call. A few weeks ago Carlotta, my partner in life and in LoveImmobiliare, called with one of those pieces of news that straighten your back: at the Gallio Film Festival 2026 we would have two minutes of our own, before every screening. Two minutes to tell the story of the Asiago Plateau.

The festival's curator, Sergio Sambugaro, had chosen us because he has known our work for a long time; he had told Carlotta something that is both a gift and a responsibility, and he was sure we would make something beautiful. We set to work at once, with a clear direction: to give space to the photographers who collaborate with our magazine. Only two things were missing: the music and the edit.

And as if on cue: barely a month earlier, Alma had been born.

I had what I needed. A voice, Alma's, and a pipeline built on DaVinci and AI-based creation tools, able to carry me toward a work worthy of the occasion. Or so I hoped.

The music was still missing. And here comes the part I love most. Carlotta says: “I like this one… arv… arvo…”. And I: “Who on earth are you talking about?”. She sends me the link. Arvo Pärt. You should have seen my face. Pärt is one of the composers who marked me most: his music enters me without meeting any barrier, it moves me, it makes the right strings vibrate.

Said and done. In one hour I wrote Whispered Green. In a single breath, first take. A restrained intensity, a harmony that is not obvious yet not esoteric. Alma gave it her voice, without words. None were needed. Her voice is like the fog of the Asiago Plateau, the Plateau of the Seven Communities: it wraps around you, and it enchants.

A farmhouse on the plain at pink dawn, low fog wrapping the fields — Pink dawn over the plain: fog turning into music. © Adriana Benetti Longhini

We had the music. For the images I asked Adriana Benetti Longhini and Gianni Rigoni Stern, two beloved photographers of the plateau, to give us not the usual postcards, but the hidden places: corners that are magical, mysterious, almost secret. Their enthusiasm was contagious; their work, extraordinary. I added some of my own drone footage, to give room to breathe and root everything in the land.

A misty beech wood with pale trunks and white spring snowflakes on the forest floor — A wood holding its breath. © Adriana Benetti Longhini

An orange fritillary butterfly resting on grass in warm light — The plateau in its smallest details. © Gianni Rigoni Stern

Then it was my turn: DaVinci and AI, to bring the photographs to life and compose a short film, poetic and cinematic, in dialogue with Whispered Green. I avoided the cliché of a cut on every beat: I edited as if the video were itself part of the music's creative flow. All in true 4K, no upsampling. That too, I believe, carries wonder.

A hamlet clinging to a wooded hillside, fog rising, warm autumn light breaking through — The warmth of houses, suspended between fog and morning gold. © Adriana Benetti Longhini

Dried flowers capped with fresh snow against blue misty mountains — Light snow on the flowers, and the mountains dissolving. © Gianni Rigoni Stern

Two almost-twin shorts were born this way: one will open every evening of the festival; and the official video of Whispered Green, on Alma's channel, with no promotion, only art.

The festival opens on 18 July in Gallio, on the Asiago Plateau, and runs for two weeks. Welcoming the audience, every evening, will be her: Whispered Green.