Summer 2016, we went for a roadtrip through the UK and ended up in Wales. The sandy road winding downhill towards the white house we would stay, on one of those rolling hills, looked like it was manifested from a poem of Thoreau. It was a house to and home of a lady who was living halfway the road in her caravan with the horses. It was a home to her and her belated husband. Then only 9 months ago he deceased and the house was still breathing his presence. We invited her to dinner in her own house, at her own table, we felt humble that we were allowed to rent this magnificent place and she was totally ok with that. In fact she loved how we used all her kitchen supplies and made her handmade gnocchi with tasty local vegetables. Her home was warm a...

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