To see and walk on the snow-covered Mount Etna is a privileged experience. I lived it last week as a brilliant start to a stay in Sicily accompanying a group of ARA subscribers. We toured the island following the trail ofIl Gattopardo and its author, Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, and we were sated with beauty and art, all still dazzled by the impact of the snow-white snow dotted with black-as-coal volcanic bombs.

I pause to consider the news of Italian town on the brink of the abyssI press the button to read it. But, oh dear, a banner alerts me: if I'm a subscriber, I have to sign up. My session must have expired. I breathe like a goalkeeper facing a penalty kick. The website asks me to enter my phone number or email address. Since I have two email addresses, or maybe twelve, and I don't know which one to use, I go with the right one. The phone number, fortunately, is still the same, because the last time I lost it, a kind soul sent it to me. The phone number is correct. Then, it asks for my password.