The verb love is a beautiful word. When something we love, somehow makes us happy, haunting us, alienates us. Interesting that relationship between the word "love" and the semantic field typical of fairy tales, magic light. A lovely person keeps us on tiptoe, lift us above the prose of each day.
Between the noise and the CANTAMAÑANAS, every day we discover charming details: a ceiling with low cloud, cold, the waitress's Michelin, add the pool a cloudy Tuesday, sip mint tea mint hot.
must be enchanted, be open to the surprise and magic. Death is the saddest and the soothsayers, with their pathetic air of bookish intellectuals. Not long ago I read the Pope: "Listen well, your heaven is you."
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