The best place to live all over the house was the kitchen, which occupies half of the basement. It was there that I did my first breakfast in the morning latte and pan gray. From grid saw move chickens, guinea fowl, dogs, sometimes human feet. I liked the solid wood table, benches, chests of. The kitchen sent flames iron, rutile branches: pots of all sizes, cauldrons, cucume, basins and Baccinello and I enjoyed the joy of childhood dishes enamel colors, the variety of cups, bowls, glasses, bowls , of the plates, the pots, jugs. The amount of pots, pans, pots, cauldrons, pots, bowls, plates, gutters, axes, mortars, molds, grinders, cast iron, terra cotta, ceramic, porcelain, aluminum, tin! Across the corridor, where the doves cooed, there was the candy shop. Painted jars and bowls, churns of polished wood, slabs of butter, fresh cheese from the smooth flesh under the white muslin: the toilet and the smell of infant nudity made me flee. But I liked starmene fruit in the closet, where pears and ripe apples on the wattle, and Cellari between the barrels, bottles, ham, salami, braids of onions and dried mushrooms. In those dungeons focused all the luxury grill.
- Simone De Beauvoir
- Memoirs of a girl for good
- Einaudi ET writers
- page: 79
