A west-looking balcony and a potato and artichoke soup

Artichoke and potato soup

I am sitting on the balcony, my feet firmly stamped on the terracotta tiles, warmed by the afternoon sun. Our balcony faces west, I always say this to everyone when they visit or when they sit at the table after a cooking class. From my balcony I’ve seen some of the most beautiful sunsets of my life, I’ve admired the shooting stars during San Lorenzo night with my nose up in the sky, feeling at the centre of the world, I’ve eaten there and I’ve read books, I’ve hung the clothes out to dry and I’ve watered my fresh herbs, flooding my grandma’s front door.

From the balcony I check what Noa is doing in the garden. You can often see her lying in her favorite spot, where she can simultaneously control her three houses: ours, my parents’ house and my grandma’s one, so she can choose each time where to go to beg her daily dose of cuddles.

Today, sitting on my tiny balcony, I felt the Spring. I’ve just come back from three days in Bologna where I worked continuously until evening. At night I would go out and I would still find some light, a soft Spring light, girls walking with light clothes and loose hair on her shoulders. Back here, I found a stunning green to welcome me, so intense that it could almost seem unreal.

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