to west again

{a sunset, a heavenly tart, and the general feelings of joy}

It's never a simple thing returning to a place where you've spent six months, thirteen hours a day, seven days a week, building, sweating, worrying, jumping with joy, happiness, exhaustion, excitement and pride. I've never dedicated more energy to anything in my life as I have to il vecchio. And now I'm back for a visit. And it's marvelous. And odd. And all sorts of things.  

Being back, I feel happy and useless. It's a funny thing. It's like my child that's grown up, and he only sorta needs me. I spent most of today photographing it and just sitting, observing. I ate the most incredible spinach and ricotta ravioli, an insane strawberry tart {three pieces!} and hung out with all the delightful new people working there that I've never met before. And after swiftly whisking away the two horrid ficus plants that had crept their way in without my watchful eyes to keep them out, I replaced them with those lovely rambling yellow roses from the backyard fence, I felt even better. It was spring, I was relaxing, I had just eaten a meal that had topped any I'd ever had, and I was watching this well-oiled-machine work wonders and enchant all who enter it.

Tables and headboards and commissions and emails, they will all just have to wait for now. This trip, my focus is on eating pasta.