Brussels was full of snow, frost and cold. On the way you slipped up scattered pieces of ice on paved sidewalks and we kept the heating in the hotel so high that we could cultivate orchids.
I did not see the city. I've seen several chocolates, butter cookies, cakes of various kinds and I author discovered a unique rummaging among the books of D. intended for small Celeste. His Saisons is already in my wish list for Christmas.
Celeste is beautiful, and there are no words to describe what I tried to keep her in his arms. We would like to color, or odor.
As rightly said his father, the most incredible thing is that was not there before and now there is.
I went home and did the Christmas tree, a pot of cous cous which is sufficient for the whole week, and a stroke to see the latest film by Woody Allen.
I kept thinking about the things we said and even more so to those that we said, around the round table always well stocked with tea and cakes in the kitchen of my friends. Big and small things you saw, floating in the air like crazy bubble burst and left half of the thoughts to share just looks and nods of understanding.
here today there was a kind of sirocco appiccicosissimo and 15 degrees, and I was still dressed as in Brussels.
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