STILL ABOVE

On a balcony paved with radiant marble, a linen sheet flutters. The morning caresses it through the seams, the wind playing with warmth straight from a generously blooming citrus garden. Branches creak and bend, while succulent blossoms tempt the fruit to be plucked.

As the light climbs higher, rays overwhelm the powdery palette of the courtyard. Even the slightest breeze seems about to surrender, trapping the greenery in the heat. Eyes seek out the shadows.

They are offered only by the canopies of rare trees. You explore the dryness of the trunks, the resinous bark, feeling their perfect irregularities. Everything is still, only warm gusts occasionally speak of themselves over the shoulders. You stop too. Listen. They have something to say.

„…a fragrance that makes the sun reach its zenith.“