The Mexican one is a large clear and cordial residence, Propice at rest and with serenity. Each room tells a different history, That of the books deposited in its centre, Or stars which scintillate beyond the windows.

Photo de Fred R

To offer a room to a host, It is to open our house,

To discover our art of living in all simplicity, And our love of the books and the writers.

 

The Mexican one is an old injury which likes to be made respect,

Then shoes of excursions, of ski or of bicycle align themselves wisely on the stage, the extinct cigarettes remain in the ashtray of the entry,

the provisions bought at the market arranged in the storeroom

And so that each one can intend to breathe the mountain, the door of entry is closed at 10 p.m. 30. The cracking of the parquet floor in waxed oak stops for the night, Before singing again in the morning to announce the breakfast...