burro (original)

I stood in front of the refrigerator case in a bustling Italian supermarket, scanning the endless rows of butter, trying to channel the wisdom of someone’s—anyone’s—Italian grandmother. With no point of reference, what was the right choice? Compare cost and quantity? Weigh fat content like a pragmatist?

Absolutely not.

Like any artist—and aren’t we all, in some way?—I chose the one that delighted my eyes. From the moment I stepped in front of the glass door, the Soresina butter, wrapped in its elegant sky-blue paper, had already chosen me. It flirted shamelessly as I pretended to consider my options, as if the decision hadn’t been made the instant I saw it.

The butter itself? Perfectly fine. But the real joy was in capturing the delicate wrinkles and folds of that crinkled blue wrapper, translating its quiet beauty onto paper. Proof that inspiration finds you in the most ordinary places—if you have the eyes to see it.