When I was a child summertime always started with a long family journey by car ending with waking at dawn surounded by cicada’s warbling in the fragrance of garrigue, with the promise... later on, to see the magic blue Adriatic sea appear.
Today, my summertime is starting with the organized landscape of hills and vineyards shelters sprinkled along a winding road which I can see every morning through the plane trees lining along the way to my studio.
Could it be Nichols Canyon Road winding through a naive colourful painting by David Hockney leading to his iridescent blue pool with ripling tiling.
It is a neat and straight summer. Hot and humming, careless, enlighted with natural innocence. A «limoncello» summer with flashes of water when we gathered with beloved ones under a dreamy blue sky for an everlasting summer.