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The garden: zucchini and their flowers, borage and mint

Sorry for the days off that I have taken but the end of school is never a time easy! ;-) To celebrate the first
afternoons spent in the garden in the sun here this appetizer fresh and fast that in itself has the full force of summer (and my garden is a ;-)!!!!)
crudités with fresh zucchini seasoned with oil and peppermint Sciacca with lying above the flowers zuchina raw stuffed with goat cheese worked with oil and borage buds blanched.

To change the subject: I had
Saturday, June 5, together with some guys from my high school, the great honor of presenting Tiziano Scarpa, who won the Strega Prize in 2009 the project Asolo Books.
was talking about his new book "the basics" (released May 24) I was struck by the incredible psychological world described, more intense than in the famous Stabat Mater.
I wanted to write in two excerpts from the book that hit me .... and then the reading is up to you ... I will not reveal anything ...

You were born a few days ago. You have eyes, you do not look. The way you look at is to keep your eyes open and let in the light. Does not focus. At least that's the impression you give. I stand before you and watch you. You do not look at me. I see. But not as something separate from the rest. Inside you enter it all together, figure and ground. In your view I do not moo Stagliano. Aprte do all that before you enter through the eyes. For you I am a dirty patch of light.

We are the words we speak: there is none: there was never another: no one but us: the words, your Paul: there are not yours: that there are none, we are our own: us: and you thought of overtaking, Leonardo? Let us pass by sgurado your child? Make them transparent? Illuminated by the look of your child? And tell us a little ': that your son, where would it be? Where is your son? Puff! Gone: you do not have any more kids: you never had: I think so: and now look: think of it now: and you thought of it even among fourteen, and yet you have nothing: there is nothing: no we have nothing but us: the opaque APROL: o and black words: without the passage; without passage: no one here will not come to light.

finamo And with some photos of my garden and my plants :

Santolina flowering