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Notes09/04/2022
MonsieurMont
2 Reviews
MonsieurMont
5
End of October
I am in my old aristocratic house in the small medieval village somewhere in the north of Italy. I woke up not long ago and i am looking out of the window in a magnificent early morning autumn landscape as the mist starts to vanish defeated from the first warm rays of the morning star. The house is surrounded by vineyards which at at this time of the year become living sculptures of gold. Little dew diamond drops try without success to hold themselves on the leaves but slowly find their way to the already sodden earth.
Somewhere further, hardly distinguishable through the brume , some of the villagers in the company of their special trained dogs enter the woods of the surrounding hills in search of black truffles.
I am sitting on a leather armchair made hundreds of years ago by a master upholsterer in Florence. The leather is smooth like velvet from the daily use and the patina reflects the sunlight which penetrates the dark library from the high windows. The ancient library around me is partially covered in long shades and emanates the relaxing, comforting and well known scent of old books and oak. I wear my favourite tweed jacket and warm flannel grey pants, a fine monogrammed grid check shirt and a tie with a perfect double windsor knot. A pair of brown leather Edward Green shoes and the small golden pinky signet ring completes the picture. On the small mahogany tea table next to my armchair the Odyssey remained open in the 12th rapsody exactly as i left it the night before. Next to the book an empty glass of the finest Brunello di Montalcino produced with a lot of love and unmatched skill by my friend Annibale.
My dog enters the room slowly and in absolute silence, just like a cat would walk, and lies down to my feet.
I am holding a small cup of fresh made espresso on one hand and petting my best friend's head with the other. In exchange for the treat he licks my hand and starts wagging his tail.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes and think how wonderful life can be. For a a few seconds that seem like an eternity i am the happiest person ever born on the face of the earth.
10/10
Somewhere further, hardly distinguishable through the brume , some of the villagers in the company of their special trained dogs enter the woods of the surrounding hills in search of black truffles.
I am sitting on a leather armchair made hundreds of years ago by a master upholsterer in Florence. The leather is smooth like velvet from the daily use and the patina reflects the sunlight which penetrates the dark library from the high windows. The ancient library around me is partially covered in long shades and emanates the relaxing, comforting and well known scent of old books and oak. I wear my favourite tweed jacket and warm flannel grey pants, a fine monogrammed grid check shirt and a tie with a perfect double windsor knot. A pair of brown leather Edward Green shoes and the small golden pinky signet ring completes the picture. On the small mahogany tea table next to my armchair the Odyssey remained open in the 12th rapsody exactly as i left it the night before. Next to the book an empty glass of the finest Brunello di Montalcino produced with a lot of love and unmatched skill by my friend Annibale.
My dog enters the room slowly and in absolute silence, just like a cat would walk, and lies down to my feet.
I am holding a small cup of fresh made espresso on one hand and petting my best friend's head with the other. In exchange for the treat he licks my hand and starts wagging his tail.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes and think how wonderful life can be. For a a few seconds that seem like an eternity i am the happiest person ever born on the face of the earth.
10/10
ChicoRoch1
