The sun had just set over the sea and the spare light from its rays was mixing with the city lights. They were walking, talking about the land of Ice from the film they had just seen. With a cup of hot salep in their hands warming their voices, maybe for the last time for this year, they were heading to their bus stops. And at the last corner, there was a stove with warm roasted chestnuts and the mister with his gloves and cap on (a bit overdressed for such a lovely spring weather) said: “They are sweet as the last chestnuts of this winter, there won’t be any more from now on”.

That means only one thing, when the mister old fashion-out from another time-residue of the past says such thing..

Spring has officially arrived in this city!!

And I might try to make these macaroons if there will be any chestnuts left tomorrow. Mum loves them a little bit.