Fresh bread and vineyards

There is always a moment, just a few seconds after I’ve exited the bakery, when the smell of the fresh bread in my hands rises and hits me full on. I love that moment.

Lately I’ve been coming to realize something that’s perhaps obvious, but that seems increasingly clearer over time: things are better when shared. Humiliating, painful and stressful moments often create opportunities for growing closer to friends, in laughter and in solidarity.  And the beautiful things aren’t anywhere near as nice unless you can share the joy of them with someone else, whether it be at that time or afterwards.

Maybe my sentimental mood is a continuation of my train ride back from Florence. The rolling hills of Tuscany still have the same peace-inspiring effect on me, with their comforting green curves, patchwork vineyards, and elegant cypresses. This time, as I was gazing out the window, a full double rainbow arched over the fields. I like promises.


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