Going To Europe As A Budding Cook

Like Fanning Through A Deck Of Cards, My Mind Flashes On The Thousand Chances, Trivial To Profound, That Converged To Re-create This Place. Any Arbitrary Turning Along The Way And I Would Be Elsewhere; I Would Be Different. Where Did The Expression "a Place In The Sun" First Come From? My Rational Thought Process Cling Always To The Idea Of Free Will, Random Event; My Blood, However, Streams Easily Along A Current Of Fate.

Anytime The Perfume Of Orange And Lemon Groves Wafts In The Window; The Human Body Has To Feel Suffused With A Languorous Well-being.

I'm Just Fascinated By Houses. In Another Life, I'd Have Probably Trained As An Architect. If I Had Enough Money, I'd Collect Them Like Other People Collect Teapots. I Don't Know Why I Love Them So Much. I'm Just Very Interested In The Idea Of A House As A Metaphor For The Way One Lives.

As Travel Pushes Me Forward, Memory Keeps Dragging Me Backward.

Going To Europe As A Budding Cook Opened My Eyes To Food In A Different Way. When I Got To Italy, The First Thing I Did Was Put My Little Basil Plants In The Ground And Watch Them Turn Into Big, Healthy Bushes.