The garden is not dumb nor lonely.
The pomegranate adorn it with nice vermilions flowers of poetical memory.
It's there, noble and generous. A good patronage for the house.

There's with him in this old function the medlar tree and the laurel, as well as the most beautiful tradition of sun-dial thought.

The house is not isolated from others, but it's well-joined in the small town "Le Porpore", which as well the other (Li Cuomi, Li Candidi, Li Summonti) it takes the name of the family that has historicaly distinguished.
It's not at any house... but it's a grat farm laboratory, perfectly organized.

At the beginning of the last century it had inside a mill and a bakery, a loom, a late, a tobacconist's shop and a dwelling house of a patriarcal family: Husband, wife and fourteen children, half of them boys and the others girls.
Alfonso Cavaliere, the patriarch directed his family with skilfulness and rigor.

Rosa Gentile, His wife, attended with zeal and love.
Other times what a lovely small, old-fashioned world!

Then the days passed by quickly the children grow up and they settle. The diaspora starts Francesco the el dest studied at university.
Gaetano worked in the public administration and became mayor of Furore. Egidio joined the army and he became marshal.Antonio came back to native house's mother in Sessa Aurunca. Salvatore and Andrea remained in native village. The sisters as well. They will got married. one of them, Serafina remained there until the end. Before near her parents and then near her brother marshal in retirement proud witness of family value.

This nice story is still present in the pomegranate's house. To repropose it again with a warm reception and good welcome, we are Umberto and Virginia.
A stay with us is for the person which loves to find out the invisibility of the places for the people capable to see further on apparent reality. For the people who want to escape to trude syndrome, which all homologate, all flatten.
A stay for great travelles capable to find out in the world that they visit the continent which it is hidden in themselves.

Raffaele Ferraioli