domenica 14 agosto 2011
a valley , far from the sea whose scent, nonetheless, is still recognizable like a whiff of salty air.
Imagine steep hills covered with thick chestnuts and acacias woods.
Imagine the perfumes , the flavours of the leaves , the musky , hearthy smell of moist soil and mushrooms.
Imagine a steep widing road , its tar ruined by too many harsh winters but brightened up by sudden patches of sunlight breaking through the foliage.
Imagine a tiny perched village beset by the trees , protected by its church , its small houses nested together to protect themselves from cold and bracing winds.
Imagine a small home , a wee garden , a spectacular view of the valley and imagine to spend there more than 30 happy summers , holidays , Christmas vacations.
Imagine that same house , no longer home , so unchanged and yet so different , its stone walls imbued of memories , of laughter , of joy.
They were your joys but now they aren't any more.
No, I have done a big mistake going there today.
Pubblicato da rosanna a 20:59