Rome, Italy
I remember being drawn to the arched doorway, the deep, cave-like interior, and the warm light spilling from inside.
I could practically imagine the smell of waffle cones and freshly scooped gelato. Outside, little signs advertising martinis seemed to be coaxing passersby through the door.
I love places that invite you in without having to say very much. A glimpse of a beautiful interior, the promise of something delicious, a warm glow against the street.
Would Italy really be Italy without gelato? I don't think so.
Rome, Italy
I remember being drawn to the arched doorway, the deep, cave-like interior, and the warm light spilling from inside.
I could practically imagine the smell of waffle cones and freshly scooped gelato. Outside, little signs advertising martinis seemed to be coaxing passersby through the door.
I love places that invite you in without having to say very much. A glimpse of a beautiful interior, the promise of something delicious, a warm glow against the street.
Would Italy really be Italy without gelato? I don't think so.
