This signora in Spello was so intent on her knitting I think it was there’s no way she would have known I was taking her photo. I’m a frustrated casalinga at heart and I got the feeling she must be immaculately tidy. She fitted so neatly into the shadow of her doorway for a start.
This week I even fancied a life swap when all I could feel was my road to Umbria getting longer and steeper while she was already there. Or maybe all I need is some of her wisdom of the elders. We could drag out two chairs and sit in the sun in that same quiet hour before lunch, when the table’s been set and all that’s left to do is buttare la pasta.