The

STORY

I was running to the top of the hill clutching the still dusty casing to my chest, as if I wanted to let it in, even physically, into my heart.

The blue sky full of shiny stars was covering, like a welcoming blanket, the old farmhouse; these stares were the only lights that had filled my eyes during waking nights, but since then my soul only desired to observe with the simplicity and purity of Nonna Bianca’s eyes.

When you empty an old trunk you always think that it will be quick, but it is never like that: sinking your hands into the accumulated objects, the soul dives into memories, and memory becomes the only captain of the vessel of emotions.

That time, however, not even it managed to govern the boat that, wrecked in reading some old papers, let itself be carried away by an inevitable sweetness.

The pages, carefully wrapped in a simply embroidered ivory-colored handkerchief, and innocently tied with a satin ribbon, contained the memories of a simple existence, marked by harsh sacrifices and genuine joys, punctuated by the clock of peasant life, accompanied by the alternation of the seasons of man and nature, and lived knowing to read the signs of the heart and the sky.

Reading the Nonna Bianca’s diary, entrusted to me by destiny while I was cleaning one of the rooms of the old farmhouse, indicated to my heart the path to follow: the farmhouse would come back to life.

Nonna Bianca’s diary was full of notes about life and living in the countryside.

Nearby the calendar, on the wall, I found recepies of tipical dishes and natural cures, she wrote down the period of sowing and harvesting, as well most of the magic tales narrated around the fireplace.

I started working by painting the wall of white and it gave me a quite and clean sensation that my grandma loved.

I focused myself on indoor as the outdoor searching the midway between traditions and modernity.

I setted the guests rooms on the floors above the kitchen, so that they could have a look to enjoy the view of the countryside.

Th stable became the restaurant where the guests had the opportunity to taste the country products such as cheese, wine, and the dishes that i found on Nonna Bianca’s cookbook.

Everyhting was born from the love act by the destiny, making me know and discover traditions and uses i thought lost, so I wanted to put a relax zone where people could read a book in front of the fire or just having a sit drinking a cup of tee.

This love reflects the essence of each of us that, mirroring in our soul, takes us at Eroma, where the peace and relax make the rules.

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