The Broghammers are in Germany

Well, finally here we are.
And all in one piece.
A part a few broken dishes and glasses, some scratch on my favorite furniture, some unavoidable distress, we are well established in Quedlinburg.
This is a hell of a beautiful town.
Sorry for the people who never heard about it.
It is a place at least to visit.
The magic is in the night, from my bedroom window on the last floor Schmale Strasse looks like a road in those Grimm’s fairytales.
With all those timber houses and the dim light of few old style, yellow lighted street lamps, the little stones road, the silence and the sky full of stars, I live again in my childhood when I read the Grimms´ tales and imagined a place just like this.
I guess it is from then that I dream to live in a old house and mine is indeed one.
On the door is written it was built in 1592 and I have no doubt of it.
You would think that such an old house would have an unwelcome air, but it is exactly the opposite.
The real moment is the night, when you still can hear the wind blowing and the noise of the people walking in the road.
Schmale means narrow and it is a narrow road, but that is what makes it nice.
There is so much to clean and polish.
I will soon have to make new wax, and that is one of the job I like best.
That smell of turpentine, seeing the pieces of wax melting, spreading it all over, windows, floors, furniture, even brass and silver.
I love the smell and the shining of everything.
In the small things you get sometimes (very often) your satisfaction and your happiness.
The thought you did a good job and your house looks exactly the way you like.
I was born in Italy, but I feel like my childhood was here, among these roads and looking out of these windows.
I love to think that somewhere there is a prince or a princess or some wild animal or a witch.
Behind these huge and heavy doors you could hide anything...