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I grew up in a little house in the wood. We had just one family that lived near us, they were my second family and called me her daughter for rent. Thir son was my best friend and that place is the setting of the best memories of my childhood. I could go on hours talking about how we played in the nature. In the middle of nowhere, no one could hear us, no one could tell us what to do and the rules of society were taught us by our parents, but weren’t as strict as we discovered some years later. I loved it there.

The family still lives there, everything is different, there is still no tv, but there is a computer. There have no goats anymore, so no more milking and making cheese, but there still is a big, beautiful garden were every kind of delicacy is to be found.

In the summer they used to organize a pizza baking dinner. He makes the dough and bakes and she rolls the dough and sets the table and the guest just “customize” their pizza with whatever they want.

On Saturady they organized a dinner again, we were invited and it was just like falling in my memories all over again. I will not describe the evening, but it was full of light, music, talking and it felt just perfect.

Tomorrow the second part of this post with the baking and eating photos.

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