Memory Is, Of Course, A Trickster.

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.

The House Protects The Dreamer; The Houses That Are Important To Us Are The Ones That Allow Us To Dream In Peace. Guests We've Had Stop In For A Night Or Two All Come Down The First Morning, Ready To Tell Their Dreams.

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.

What Has Impressed Me The Most About The Italians Whose Tables We've Sat At Is That They Are Traditional Cooks But Also Outrageously Innovative. These People Are Wild Improvisers.

Five Tender Apricots In A Blue Bowl, A Brief And Exact Promise Of Things To Come.