Jouissense

No wonder they could not resist the temptation! No one is perfect, even the Capuchins.
“Coffee was strictly prohibited in the Medieval times, it was sinful, but, perhaps, for the same reason, it became the object of such a strong desire that the monks found a crafty solution - covered it with a hood– capuccio in Italian – of milk, and their sin was never revealed”, he winked at me, with his hazel eyes and the spirit of careless youth in the city of caressing sun and nurturing shadows of everlasting pine trees. His old Vespa, leaned to the blue scuffed door of the street café, seemed to have even more secrets to share.
The sandy ancient stone walls were warm, the April morning was tender as a newborn deer; Rome was slowly waking up, with the smell of pastry, marmelade, sweet coffee cream and that imperial laziness in the air, when you get all the time in the world on the tip of your tongue . The morning bliss was embracing the Romans, flocking to the tiny piazza to cherish the day. Simple tables and chairs on the narrow cobbly pavements, surrounded by blooming trees and ripened oranges, must be the sacred place of a sweet ritual to pay tribute to the night of love and savour the afterglow.
In a sudden impulse of adventure, I hopped on his scooter, twined my arms around the back of the reckless guy and entrusted us to Genio Loci.
Cruising around along the gingery facades that keep their stories behind the shutters I could not help thinking that with every new corner and crossing, every wisper of a sculpture fountain I was not exploring the place, but rather recognizing it. The joy of another sunny day, bathing the hills, was filling the streets and my heart.
The narrow streets were winding under the wheels of our old Vespa. The genuine harmony of being was manifesting itself, through enchanting smiles on women’s faces and eye-worship of every man passing by; embodied in Rodin – like embrace of lovers,capturing the moment of utter passion and captured by it in the dimension of eternity, where nothing gets lost and no time, erasing the precious traces, exists.
We stopped at the bottom of Venus temple. It was half-destroyed, but still treasured its atemporal allure, and besotting bouquet of springtime fragrance was tatting a veil in the azure sky, a veil so elusive and promising - who would resist?
“Where do the roads lead, if you are already in Rome?”
We were zipping to find.