I am from the time when everything ran more slowly. When paths were taken unhurriedly, and we had more time to get to where we needed to go.
I am from the time when we made things by hand because that was how it was done well. When photographs were in black and white, but life was filled with colour, like the baskets in the harvest, in every detail:
In the vines shaped by these hands, in the land, the river and the fearless boats that crossed it.
When you get to my age, you forget a lot of things. It's the age... But we remember tales of old times in vivid colours.
Do you want to hear mine? How much time do you have?Blackett Very Old Port Wine.
The Taste of Time.