| A path brings us back to the past.
The need for rest, refuge in silence only altered by nature. We sit
down to enjoy everyone and everyone the senses. They are the same bricks that
saw the centuries of changes in this patio. That speak of who raised them
and of the plants that covered them, the days of wind and water, cold
and snow. I hear the drip of water and I smell orange blossom and boxwood
at my step hand for its thickness. The birds, sparrows today and who knows
once, they encourage us in curious talk in the shade of these glasses
In this quiet place, full of light, color and water, leaf, fixing
our eyes we merged in the backwater of the fountain to a time of our history.
Maybe Irving is waiting to tell us more things.