I’m sunbathing topless with a glass of natural wine in hand, dancing along the volcanic stone rooftop at my home for the week: a restored dammusi villa in Pantelleria, a windswept Italian island in the Mediterranean Sea, set about 60 miles off the shores of Sicily and only 40 miles from the coast of Tunisia. I’m with four of my girlfriends, and we’re all mesmerized by the view: the cobalt sweep of the sea and the tiny fishing village of Scauri, where, as the sun sinks, the whitewashed belltower turns molten gold. Our Italian disco playlist sounds as we sidestep and sway haphazardly over the rooftop’s white domes, originally designed to catch every drop of rain and funnel it into underground cisterns, a necessity on an island with no freshwater streams.

Before the sun takes its final fre

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