February 25, 2012
I love peeping into windows in Sicily, a tendency some might call nosy, prying, voyeuristic.
If eyes are the windows to the soul, then windows are the eyes to the soul of a home.
Bay windows, picture windows, French windows, jalousie windows. They all set me to dreaming.
Of other lives. Secret lives.
I wonder: What sort of people are behind that window? What are they craving, creating, suffering?
I’d like to try on their story, if only for a little while.
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Jann, and it’s even more tempting to want to peak when you’ve enticed up with lovely windows like the ones in these captures! You’ve truly outdone yourself in this post! I love the color, the lace, the statues! So rustic and picturesque! 🙂
Grazie mille, Bella!
Oh, you had me at “peeping into windows” but when I beheld the windows you were peeping at I was more than smitten! These photos are simply sumptuous!
Grazie mille, louciao!
I stop by often and always enjoy baroquesicily. The aromas can feed you brought to mind the following:
In un piccolo paese dell’Umbria vive un uomo molto povero che difficilment riesce a mangiare tutti i giorni e spesso deve saltare il pranzo o la cena.
Una sera d’inverno, mentre passa per una via, e richiamato dal fumo che esce dalla finestra dell cucina di uno forno. Ha con se un pezzo di pane. lo tiene a lungo sopra quell fumo; lo gira e lo rigira, e se mangia. Proprio quella sera il padrone del forno non ha fatto buoni affar. Per questo si rivolge poveretto che sta fuori e gli dice.
Paga mi quello che hai preso.
Lo, della tuo forno, non ho preso altro che fumo-risponde quello. La cose finisce davanti al guidice. Finalmente, dopo aver molto discusso, la decisione e questa. Poiche il povero ha goduto il fumo, ma non ha toccata nulla, prenda un soldo e lo batta sul banco. Il suono paghera il conto del fumo.
Libra riduzione dal Novellino (sec. XIII)
Dennis, what a great tale! For readers who don’t know Italian: It’s about a poor man in Umbria who inhaled the aromas coming from a bakery kitchen, and swallowed these aromas for “dinner.” The shop owner tried to make the poor guy pay for what he had “eaten.” A judge saved the day by banging a coin against his bench and telling the shop owner that this sound was adequate payment for the aromas that had been inhaled. 🙂
“If eyes are the windows to the soul, then windows are the eyes to the soul of a home.” The opening line to your photo book! Love it. I, too, always wonder about the lives of others. When they drive by, I wonder where they’re going. Pleasure? Work? Heartbreak? Adventure? Love the photos and inspiration for thought.
Thanks for stopping by, Rosann. Thanks for the idea re photo book! Am working on a Blurb book of photos, but who knows what year I’ll finish?
I think you are just being Italian, you know how important it is here to observe what other people are doing! Your photos are always great, thanks, and I am giving your site address to my 90-year old father who gets a huge kick out of our blogs about living here.
🙂 Yes, that’s true–“nosy” is Italian. Somewhere along the line I’ve become Sicilian.
With each of your posts I get more excited about my upcoming visit to Sicily. Thanks for the inspiration(s). 21 days to go…
OH, Bonnie–have a wonderful time! I will not be in Ibla then 🙁 otherwise I would so like to meet!
—Stunning images of **the eyes to the soul of a home.**
Yes. I wonder who lives behind the glass? Are they suffering like me? Are they making love? Are they cooking up a gigantic feast? Is it somebody sitting alone & lonely?
Jann, your site is one of my most treasured places to visit.
Thank you. Xxxxxx Kisses
Thank YOU for visiting, Kim. xxxxxx
I am usually most intrigued by the cooking odors wafting from windows like these.
🙂 Yes, when you walk by these windows around 1 o’clock, the aromas can feed you.
Gorgeous images Jann, as always! I do the same thing. Truly. I think windows in Italy invite peering somehow. Maybe it’s the way they’re dressed- shutters, lace curtains, flower boxes. They suggest so much about what might be going on inside….
Yes, you’re right, Janine. They’re so carefully “dressed” in Italy.