Behind the wheel I think of my next stop, the next service centre, the customary break during long trips to have a coffee, hopefully made on an Italian machine.

At last I spot a bar and with my mind still far away I open the door and find myself amid a clamour of voices that startle me back to reality.

I head for the bar where a small group of persons is quietly, almost ceremoniously, waiting in two orderly queues.

I look at the barman and all at once, as if by magic, the noisy bustle turns into an opera of orchestrated sounds, gestures, actions, rhythmic humming and whirring...

I'm rapt by this ritual performed by a man, clearly unperturbed by what's happening around him, who manages to turn the humdrum of daily routine into a melodic work of art.

The coffee machine he uses is Italian, with a classic eye-catching design and metal parts that gleam like polished wind instruments. It's very high-tech but seems to have a soul and like an old violin its notes evoke the sounds of days gone by.

I'll never forget that sound because it made the clamour disappear forever...

a passionate barman, the greatest conductor
a special coffee, the best composition
an Italian coffee machine... the finest orchestra

M.B.