casa nostra

Casa nostra e una casa di abastanza, non troppo, non di bisogno, di abastanza. I spent the eveing eating Uruguan food, listening to French music, smoking shi-sha, and speaking Italian. My life is beautiful and I live with the whole world in one house.
Smoking hookah together took me back ot my final visit to Madison before returning to Europe. To smoking a little blue hookah on His pation, to ultimate relaxation slipping through my veins, and finding its way into all of my limbs and finally to my head. To crawling lazily into His bed and shhing each others laughter as we giggled at the thought of waking the neighbors. I feel such nostalgia for those nights, for the mornings after when He would brush my hair out of my face, kiss my forehead, and leave me slumber as he slipped off to work or to make me pancakes with fresh blueberries...and I wonder about my return.