It’s raining. That means day off. I’m in my room with a big, hot cup of coffee. I can sit down and sort my thoughts out. I guess the rain makes you turn inwards, dive in your soul and find what is worth and what’s not. I feel much better today so I'm gonna continue with my story...
|The olive mill|
|...taking off the leaves...|
The olive mill is an old, two floor, stone building. It started milling back in 1911. On the top floor, the olives are separated from the leaves which will become food for livestock. They then proceed to the ground floor to be washed and then pressed for about twenty minutes by two HUGE millstones and be made into pulp. There are several machines between that and the final product. I’m waiting for Lorenzo to explain to me what happens in these machines. The ground floor was filled by a sweet, fruity smell which came as a surprise to me. I don’t know what I expected, but this smell was fruitier than anything I ever knew.
|...washing the olives...|
|...crushing the olives...|
|...the new oil is ready!|
Every night I go to bed and I have so much to recall, it’s difficult to keep the pace. Every night I remind myself that I am here because I had a dream to see the world. And just now, I am doing exactly that. And I love myself for doing it. And is my choice to stay, to leave, to change, to do whatever I please. Thanks for reading, thanks for commenting, thanks for everything!