I’ve always loved Italy. Somehow, every time I think about that country, my heart starts beating faster and I’m ready to jump into the first plane and go to any of its cities, drink a coffee in some Italian bar and wander through unknown streets. There is something in that language that sounds like a song, in the air, in their chaos, pizzas, pastas and creamy and irresistible desserts. When I think of Italy, everything starts to smell like coffee, the true Italian coffee, incomparable to any other. I always loved coffee, not the black one, but coffee with a lot of milk,…
