You never know where love will find you, and it can be even when you are too tired to notice and not always in a man (or woman) suit.  In the market this morning in Camucia just as I was leaving the press of people fighting for fresh fish and tableclothes and gossip, there was a small table of strawberries that were blood red, a deep red rose red that if you never knew what to look for in a strawberry, still you would know that these were the ones you wanted.  I  will make nothing with them.  I want only them as they are.