
This morning, I ease into a bowl of plain yogurt. It speaks for itself. I don’t need to do anything, yet it sits there like a blank canvass. The tiny wild strawberries that I bought at the mercato sant’Ambrogio yesterday, spoke to me as I walked by the stall, looking like a wallflower, the last basket of the day. “We are only here a short while you know, we are very rare.” Any thing will talk to you if you listen closely enough. Continue reading…