I did not sleep last night, too much agitation. I lied down on the sofa with doors and windows opened to expel cold from the house I call home even if it is not. It has been a bitterly cold winter until May and today has been almost like summer. Sweet music has touched my ears, the sweet sounds of June. I have listened to the breeze whisperings, to the songs of birds and to the silence, a sort of contemplation with my eyes closed. After a respite, I had a late lunch in the sun and dwelled on the ivy wall of the garden. New and fresher leaves hide the old and dark ones as life does with its sap. Youth is nimble and bold and extends its spirit in spring around every corner.
I have come to terms to maturity. I expect the years to come to be wrapped up in splendid clothes, in serenity and wisdom and in true love, despite time, despite age. I long for that love I have feared for decades. Twilight has intensified the strong fragrances of acacia flowers. I keep my window opened until late to smell spring, to smell life more.