I long for days of abject bliss, the kind that linger on for months.
A sultry breeze, a wisp of salty sea air on the wind, blown on from a distant sea a long way away.
Picture this, lying in a hammock on the slopes of a Tuscan hillside, the sounds of birds and the trickle of distant streams. The sounds of life beyond the trees, muffled to mer whispers of a forgotten realm of work.
The aroma of Italian food wafting out of the old house, wine and cheese by your side in case you get peckish.
Ah! If only I could go back to that time long ago, where there was not a care to be had, nor hassle to be put upon. Those days have gone, never to be brought back.
The memories linger though, they pray on your mind with the memory of what could be again, but reality hits you, your not in Italy any more....
One day you say to yourself, perhaps one day.... But you know in your heart that that day may never come, forever will you be stuck in the financial rut the west has thrust upon you.
You console yourself with material things, a new TV, computers galore and fireplaces as part of your living room makeover, but deep down all you want is the rustic simplicity of a house on a hill in the Italian Tuscan outback of life.
We can but dream of things gone past, and things that may yet come to pass or pass us by.