Divine in all its Goopidity

This place had me choked up, pining for more and left me uttering only the words "O my goodness, kill me now, so I know I'll die happy". My older sister and I walked around, a glass of wine in hand, perusing and drooling and oggling over isles of fresh pastas (from semolina to fara to kamut) and gold foil-wrapped olive oils, section after heart tugging section. The fruit mostardas, the heap of meyer lemons, the botarga, the mini crate of uni (this. this thing right here. IS my favorite thing on the planet) caught off the coast of the north Atlantic that morning. and the MOZZARELLA station. The master artfully massaging and caressing that beautiful dairy cloud in this big silver basin right in front of my face! STOP IT!


And then. Il cioccolato.
Rows and shelves and platters of bliss. Of perfection. Of death. 
From the handmade Baci-like bonbons to toasted coconut-coated truffles to these divine dark chocolate bubbles filled with chocolate liqueur. As each were proudly nestled in their fluted throne, they sang to my soul. They beckoned; I answered with fervor. 


It's all their fault. 


I chose the bubble - that hollow orb filled of an all at once silken, oozy and goopy, divinity. 
In a word sublime.
I lose my train of thought as the first bite is taken while my darling little sister is innocently chatting to me over the phone about...well, something to do with crocheting, I think. 
And now here goes this viscous rush of goopishness down my hand and onto my chin, then chest. Poor little girl was completely oblivious to my juggling of goop and iPhone and divinity all over the place.
Standing in the middle of this crowded marketplazaheaven with napkins just kind of sticking to me, not aiding my sitch in the least. 
Oooh, but it was worth it - every last flake of chocolate, every embarrassing look. 
Worth it, and I'll do it again.