Almost I could not understand what Max and his father were talking about. They were thinking to talk with me, I presume.

My thoughts were spinning around following the complete and close circle happened and still happening in this farm,...

... that is the journey of the food from the soil to my plate on the terrace of the house.

Except for the table spoon of sugar used in the sauce of the sweet and sour bell peppers, every other food has been totally produced inside the farm: the rabbit, born, raised and fed with organic grains and vegetables cultivate here; the bell peppers and the  turnip tops for the side dish; the rosemary, sage and garlic used to cook; the extra virgin olive oil, made at the end of october 2013 with the olives harvested behind the house; the wine the rabbit was cooked in, as well as the wine we drank. 

This "turn over" happens every day: the leftover from the table given to the chicken and their eggs back to our table in the final cake.... 
So, lost in the  mental travels  , I was not listening to the conversation I was supposed to take part to.  Practically hipnotized by my own perennial distraction, I had just enough attention to compose delicious morsels from my dish.

Could I be more lucky than this?