Coffee served at the corner of every street - in classy little shops with busy baristas. No paper cuts. Saucers and spoons. Cigarette smoke lingering on the men at the bar who are shooting straight espresso. Always cigarette smoke.
Air you can breathe deeply into your lungs. During the day, there is a hint of warmth. In the evening, a touch of briskness.
Wine in every-day glasses. Wine so new and fresh that it needs no preservatives. Wine so full and complex that it fills the mouth. Red Wine. Chiannti. Served in a half-caraf at lunch time with wonderful roasted meats, glorious risotto and crisp, flavorful pizzas that burst on your tongue with the flavors of every vegitable, grain or meat.
Rooftop Oases. Set atop 500 year old buildings, tiled and decorated for leisure, comfort and sensuality.
Fresh pasta. Cheese. Cream Sauce. Eggs. Red Peppers. Garlic. Mushrooms. Hazelnuts. Roasted Pork. Sausage. Herbs. Olives. Smoked Fish.
Running freely. Breathing Deeply. Listening for church bells and feeling the cold, reassuring stone walls of buildings older than my country.
Cobble Stones and roasted chestnuts. Nitrate free lunch meat. Dogs in banks. Snow covered wooden bridges on the outskirts of town.
Today, I am longing for Italy.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment