It was an ordinary Saturday, one of those that starts without plans but ends up being memorable. I followed my intuition—and my hunger—and ended up in a small bistro with exposed brick walls and old photos hanging on the wall, as if the place were telling its own story in black and white.
I ordered a platter to share... with myself. Thinly sliced cured ham, fresh mozzarella with a touch of olive oil and ripe tomatoes, all topped with basil and a sprinkle of black pepper. Each bite was simple, yet perfect.
I accompanied the moment with a gin and tonic served in a large glass, with lots of ice and a slice of lemon. On the side, the small bottles of Britvic tonic added an effortless touch of elegance.
I sat down, took a deep breath, and for a moment, everything stopped. There was no rush, no noise, no screen. Just the taste, the friendly silence of the place, and that feeling of being right where I wanted to be.
