Pains et Merveilles

Breadmaking is one of those almost hypnotic businesses, like a dance from some ancient ceremony. It leaves you filled with one of the world's sweetest smells... there is no chiropractic treatment, no Yoga exercise, no hour of meditation in a music-throbbing chapel that will leave you emptier of bad thoughts than this homely ceremony of making bread.
― M.F.K. Fisher, The Art of Eating

Theory of Everything

Summer days slip through my fingers as a running water. I have this banal request in my head that those days would be endless. I want to be a bigger part of it than just a once-in-a-year visitor. It seems to me that everything unites and the Theory of Everything takes shape of flowers, grass, forest, waterfall, people, sun and shadows - of everything most important in simple summer days.

bike until you die

BIKE UNTIL YOU DIE. No no, we were not even close to dying (ok ok, I felt that I was, but I am no example of a biker).  SO to say the trip was hard, especially last days in Provence where it goes up and down. It felt that I was buried beneath these hills already, catching my last gulps of breath. I was secretly wondering what will explode first: my heart from physical tension or my head from the freakin' heat. Well, nothing exploded, only the water under my feat when I jumped down from the cliff in the salty Mediterranean sea at the end of the trip. And that was the best explosion of this summer so far.