I am listening to Schumann while the washing machine is on. Melancholia and romanticism are always welcome despite blue and gleeful sky. Rain would go better with this music. I am finding difficult to post here: writing in English is more difficult and exhausting. The land of sleep and its kindness and tranquility have escaped from me. I usually wake up in the dead of night and only and hour or even later I fall asleep again. Summer is already here, its sounds are unmistakable and bring good memories of childhood. Yesterday, I read in the garden, in the cozy corner of the kitchen. I sat on an old wicker chair with a book and my feet rested on a tree stump. Breezes were delightful and ivy leaves were splendors. The contrast between blue sky and green was magnificent. I have never seen this blue and purity anywhere but in Castile. Their beauty takes my breath away. I have learned to appreciate it after months of rain and grey landscapes. Lately, I have tried to put my prettiest thoughts on the top and pushed the unhealthy ones into the background, into the back yard of my soul. I have a weakness for optimism and hope.


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