I arrived one day in this place, a hill town of salubrity, every
moment here was a pine drop, moment of the wind, evanescent hills
waiting to be glimpsed, contours rested in broad frames of the mind, rains unleashed weather spots, fruits the odour of pines. I will come back to these hills with picture post cards that will be hung on wallpapers of the mind, not in dark corners of sitting rooms. And in this sleepy town I dig roots of the past, common sensibilities, write a poem with you my surrogate love always asking questions and reworking destinies of love.
