The mountain and Mohammed
In every proverb there is always a truth, the experience of the ancients to be saved and preserved, history repeats itself, so in the past so in the present.
After only three months away from the beautiful Italy, begin to create small gaps, for someone who, for other small habits, for me it was already a matter of cooking.
Ninety days and start to forget the strong flavors, everything becomes like the chili covers everything.
And here is what one expects of night, when the heat softens the grip, the plane down the woman who knows you best and brings with him a refrigerator of food. The eyes light up, his tongue wiggling.
As the bag Mary Poppins, comes out of everything and a grandmother with her delicate pesto, the other with the Piedmontese appetizer, fresh bread and then his grandfather, salami and friends, the cheeses.
week changes, fills, is enhanced, Benin became less distant, it grows a little homesick, the world that you were greeted at the moment, come back to visit you.
Toc toc Nico bon appetit!
Everything moved with her, the energies of Asti, the feelings, the worries, the deep love, attention, and his son returns from time to time who do not understand so bad!
The mountain has come down to you, subconsciously expect it, he dusted off your feelings, he oiled the mechanism, you have blown into the ear and has returned home. 
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