Today the air is dusty, the slopes are brittle, and my thoughts are lazy.
Only the hot sun hasn't yet tired of fading the wooden path.
It wants to spread through it. Spread slowly, like the pages of a book in a linen bag, counting themselves.
A sandy scarf and a handful of amber help remind you that this day is for you.
There's no hurry. Stay for a moment, which you'll try to bring back with your tanned fingers through a book in the evening.
“…a scent that lightly reminds us of the summer breeze and the fleetingness of sand”
Today the air is dusty, the slopes are brittle, and my thoughts are lazy.
Only the hot sun hasn't yet tired of fading the wooden path.
It wants to spread through it. Spread slowly, like the pages of a book in a linen bag, counting themselves.
A sandy scarf and a handful of amber help remind you that this day is for you.
There's no hurry. Stay for a moment, which you'll try to bring back with your tanned fingers through a book in the evening.
“…a scent that lightly reminds us of the summer breeze and the fleetingness of sand”