alla fine passa.
"Il timbro si sbiadisce. La lama si smussa. Il dolore si affievolisce. Ogni amore è scolpito nella perdita. il mio lo è stato. Il tuo lo è. Lo sarà quello dei tuoi pro-pro-pronipoti. Ma noi impariamo a vivere in quell’amore".
Jonathan Safran Foer – Ogni cosa è illuminata


hot sunny days, smell of spring in the air – typically fresh and smoothly scented. I want to be out in the country.

I went to the garden store when an old man came in. He was dressed in a blue polka dotted scarf, a tartan hat and matching coat, and started asking for flowers for his daughter in law. He was so sweet. I went away before I could hear any more but I looked at him with attention, wanting to draw his face when I got home.