I read in not a little poetic words that “the beauty of a house is made by the life of those who live in it”… it struck me a lot and I was overwhelmed!!!
So… what’s the point of the beautiful, often even useless, things we surround ourselves with?
What good are atmospheres and scents if you don’t have the joy of sharing them?
The beauty of little things, of moments and shy smiles.
…ahem ahem crowded thoughts …I almost make myself an apple pie
I’ve never been good at baking… too many rules… baking is an alchemy, a balance between ingredients… you can’t improvise
Apple pie is the right one for me…it allows me to dare with a “just enough” and the result is still perfect
So… let’s get started
first ingredient, flour
….white, impalpable, almost incorporeal …
that then, how nice it is to play with flour; to get dirty and laugh at such a banal game but one that takes us back to childhood when putting your hands in dough just meant laughing out loud
second ingredient, sugar
“woman…du du du ….in the middle of a street, woman in disarray without company
…woman … du du du for all men so different, fashionable woman, woman against the current”
And I wonder… how much I’ve sailed against, instead of seeking blue waters to be carried away by the light ripples of the river….
and what about butter !!!
then milk and eggs and finally a pinch of salt
Salt never hurts… it adds flavor and… if dissolved in water it conducts electricity
and now the yeast that expands the dough and enriches it
But let’s not forget about cinnamon … with its qb – just enough
how I like this word !!!
…makes me think that exotic and fragrant cinnamon … ALWAYS A LITTLE FOREIGN … you can measure it according to who you’re dealing with … with a little effrontery but never in opposition<\/p>\n\n\n\n
finally the apples \u2026
and an old song comes to mind\u2026 “since Eva ate the apple she’s been in big trouble”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What a struggle to shake off what we’ve been led to believe since we were little\u2026 now golden, fragrant apples are the fantasy of a kiss, the warmth of an embrace<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2026so much heat \u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
AND GO !!! in the oven
\u2026the house fills with perfumes \u2026and home becomes even more HOME<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Like when you make love and then\u2026 in the next sleepover you are left with the warmth of a body, the trail of a perfume, the halo of light for a splendid fusion
\u2026which then in English ALONE means only<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But that’s not how you feel after\u2026
you are LONELY\u2026 but not alone<\/p>\n\n\n\n
AnnaFull<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I read in not a little poetic words that “the beauty of a house is made by the life of those who live in it”… it struck me a lot and I was overwhelmed!!! So… what’s the point of the beautiful, often even useless, things we surround ourselves with?What good are atmospheres and scents if […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":14,"featured_media":7405,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7408","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n