Ahhhhhh, Rome. It’s official. I’m in love with the eternal city… I’ve been here for a little bit and my visit has been essentially straight out of Roman Holiday. The only difference is that instead of sporting Atticus Finch on my arm and having Audrey Hepburn’s waist (!), I’ve simply been ogling marvelous ancient things, shopping amazing vintage (of course Rome has better vintage than New York, of course), and eating and drinking like a mad fool. It’s been absolutely divine- in the best panthiestic sort of way. Could I live on red wine, speck, gnocchi, tartufo honey, grappa, and stracciata? Yes. Would I want to? Yes.
Roman Holiday images from here and here.
Little by little the bird feathers its nest, and object by heart burnished object we surround ourselves with lovely necessities of memory and function. It is these things that make a silly Apartment a Home or a silly Wednesday an Occasion.
Whether my nest is an old farmhouse, a sixth floor tenement walk up, or a brownstone basement... whether I share it with family, vagabonds, women of heart and mind, or a little brown cat and a sweet ginger banjo, my principal joy is filling it with light and laughter (and corralling).
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4 thoughts on “Roman Holiday”
tartufo honey you say?
The new guard: T.H.T.’s (tartufo honey toasts). Eat your heart out T.E.T.
You must have a sgroppina