Spring. Brilliant, cerulean skies. Cool, woollen, hearth hugging evenings. Blossoms squeeze tiredly out of the trees. The change from winter seemingly to have happened overnight, so quick it came. I am not cocky though. Summer has yet to arrive. Granite. Speckled black, solid, cold. Its ergonomic shape, turning the ominous sensuous, appeals to my senses. The pestle and mortar anticipate my deft hands. The pestle, as heavy as the mortar is solid, waits to crush, to pound, to pulp. I lift them to the kitchen´s work surface with some ease. I go to the gym!
Wonderful Louis! Inspiring, as always! You reminded me I bought a pasta maker a few years ago and never used it! I need to take it out and give it a go. Well done!
Bravo maestro!
Very visual and sensuous!
Well written as ever !!!!… xxx
Wonderful Louis! Inspiring, as always! You reminded me I bought a pasta maker a few years ago and never used it! I need to take it out and give it a go. Well done!
👏👏👏