Traditional recipe. Ancient.
Result of sun and fatigue.
Like a rain in the water.
The flour is poured into its vortexes. It merges.
In the copper cauldron.
Stirred continuously, with a hazel wood.
It takes its consistency.
On the table, the heart of the house.
A cloth wraps around it.
Compact and yellow, it looks sun.
A thread to cut it.
A ritual, made of waiting and family intimacy.
Fragments of affection.
Autumn memory.
Memories and landscape.
Conviviality to be shared.

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