@brittarnhild
We come up to the remote village in the afternoon. Everything is closed and quiet. Not a person to be seen, only a stray dog. Shutters make it impossible to look through the windows, but cloths drying on the lines in the gardens tell that the place is not abandoned.
We find a pottery where a woman is working with clay, making pots based on old knowledge. I try to start a conversation, we both smile and try to understand each other. She knows a few English words, I a few Spanish. Given a bit more time this could be the start of a friendship.
I am curious to know what is behind the walls. To know the tales of the people living there.
I remember another remote village. Peaked in Provence. A complete siesta silence, like a ghost town. Then, all of a sudden we passed an open door, and I looked into a room filled with art and books. Out from an open window on the first floor flute music floated.
How often don´t we close our shutters, lock our doors, and fail to see the friend to be pass by.
Cups and plates are not meant to be stored away. They are made to be used. Between friends.
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I plan to write about The Pottery over in Caffe Avec......some day.
The two first photos are from the lava land outside the little mountain village Arguayo.
The third photo is from inside The Pottery
The last photo is from Arguayo. I love it because of its colours.
