The house
The building dates from the late nineteenth century and its lower floor was built for wine: walls almost a metre thick, barrel vaults, few openings and all of them small. They were meant to hold a steady temperature at no cost, and they still do the same job for whoever stays with us.
Nothing here was erased. The beams, the stone, the fan shaped lunette above the door were already here: they were put back in condition to work again, one at a time. It took longer than making them new, but what you throw away does not come back, and a building that has changed trade three times in a century has something to say that nobody can invent. The monogram carved above the arch was already there too: it is the signature of whoever built this place, and now it has become ours.
We do not like starting from zero
On the ground floor there is the big room, forty eight square metres: the exposed stone wall, the wooden staircase going up, the breakfast counter, the laid tables and a piano at the back that someone plays now and then. Breakfast happens here, and here in the evening people end up talking without having planned to.
The rooms are split between the two floors: two on the ground floor, next to the big room, and two on the first, where the terrace is as well. Whichever room you come out of, the big room and the terrace are a few steps away, and no bedroom is further than the others from what matters.
