“All those who actually live the mysteries of life haven't the time to write, and all those who have the time don't live them! D'you see?”
“All those who actually live the mysteries of life haven't the time to write, and all those who have the time don't live them! D'you see?”
I have been enjoying my monthly getting together with my friends Ilva and Simi and the way we travel in time with our virtual parties. In some funny way, I think of us as the Three Sopranos of food photography blogging. Today, after a month break, we are again together to tell you some of our stories about drinks that bring memories.
For him, she was as a peerless China vase. He held her high and admired her with fear of her fragility and irreplaceable value.
She was an old, mellow-eyed woman, which years one could count on her wrinkled face like the tree rings on felled tree…
While the world – young and old – is celebrating the day of love and its patron St Valentine, in my homeland we honour and toast the patron of the winegrowers, winemakers, falconers, and gardeners St Trifon. An old tradition of cutting and pruning the vines that takes us back to the mysteries of Dionysus.
We greeted yesterday the Chinese New Year. Happy Chinese New Year my dear friends that celebrate! I wish you and all those you love best of luck, good health and fortune for the forthcoming year of the Goat!
“Cooking fish tonight?” he greeted, happy to see again her sunlit smile and wished he can dive in her beaming blue eyes.
He stood up over the workbench, stretched his hands and cracked his back.
Shook the wood shavings that have perched on his hair and blew with his bottom lip the ones that were snowing down on his face.
I am sorry, I slept in…
But it is the end of the week and I felt like rolling in the bed and enjoying the lazy long weekend.
What’s for breakfast?
No, nothing happened.
I said nothing happened.
Didn’t you hear me?
I’m tired to the death.
I suddenly couldn’t drive any more.