There was a pitcher full of the juice of freshly squeezed blood oranges. There was yoghurt, imported directly from Greece and a bowl of fresh raspberries - still wet with dew. Cherries, shiny brightly in a bowl of crushed ice. There were sweet apples, almonds, and blueberries and then pastries, croissants dripping with melted butter, cannolis and rum babas. I was the only guest at
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