City tales - Milan lethargy.

Milan is never described as dormant, it is never slow or passive. Unless you are talking about he month of August.

Milan in August is stagnant, it is hot and stuffy, it is empty and deserted. It is sleeping.

Milan in August is quiet, and its peacefulness is almost unbearable. It is a place where you can feel your worst nightmares coming to life, its calmness is alarming. It isn't a city for placidness.

However, once a year it goes into hibernation, and the people roaming the streets look lost and dismayed, as if they can't quite understand what is happening around them.

Nowadays the holiday season is shorter. People aren't going away for the whole month anymore, so a new situation is happening, we are stirring the city from its sleep.

Walking the streets around the end of the month is like looking at a bear coming out of hibernation. Gradually, as the days wear out, we see shops opening up slowly as if just out of bed. Workers sweeping and cleaning as when we wash our faces to clean off the sleepy eyes. People that up until a few weeks ago were milky white, not are cappuccinos. All with a sluggish manner, in tune with their holiday rhythm.

Now we also experience the other side of the city, the side that has never closed, and they are high on coffee, they are resentful, they are fighting back the city and we can feel that it is not linking it quite so much.

Mountain Tales - San Giacomo family house

The house breathes of life lived in peace, of people who have worked towards having a great life, it smells of marzipan.

It is filled with toys that hang from the ceiling, one can loose oneself trying to discern each one, dancing on top of our heads; there are many little airplanes, in different colors and shapes. Some are helicopters and others balloons. But they all fly, as they should!

On top of the beams there are also placed wooden toys, and most of them are, too, airplanes. They sit there waiting in the gate for departure. Waiting for a new adventure, for a new destination.

The house feels of reached destinations, of goals that were met. it breathes and lives off the aura of its inhabitants.

The house is filled with books, books about travels. It feeds off the knowledge inside these books. The house is part of the world around it, its inside is in tune with the landscape around it, inside and outside are interlinked and speak the same language.

The house smells of marzipan, and lingering inside its walls one can smell freshly baked bread and strawberries and cream.

It smells of people with great minds and big hearts; and it is happy.

Summer Vacay - paintings