Autumn is here. The thick jumpers are taken out of the cellar, the deck chairs are stored, the last bit of sun cream dries up in the tube. Fog, short phases of the day, tristesse.
Luckily it's Saturday, "at least it's the weekend" I think, and since the fridge is empty, I go grocery shopping.
I stroll somewhat spiritlessly through the aisles of the supermarket, past bags of red cabbage, sauerkraut, cabbage, pumpkin and birdseed. The vegetable section is no inspiration today either. A quick glance over the bread display, quickly on past the fish counter and - wait - back to the fish counter: the friendly gentleman on the other side of the glass wall has actually placed a net with freshly caught clams in the display - flashback!
Suddenly I find myself in the Italian summer, sitting in a Ristorante right on the beach, the sound of the sea in my ear, it's hot and the waiter hands me a plate with verve and a "prego, buon appetito": Spaghetti Vongole.
Back in the here and now. After the three sentences "A net of Vongole, please", "no, that's all" and "thank you, have a nice weekend too" I hurry home.
The autumn blues are forgotten, the leaves on the street are a golden sandy beach and my shoes are not wet from the rain, but from the spray in the harbour, and the water running down my throat...