morning was cool and quiet. The mournful mist was slowly giving up its land and instead the sun beating fast, began to warm every corner of the garden space that vigorously regaining lost.
Dew during the dark night seized all animate or inanimate surface, like a wet blanket, brief shining now announcing its rapid retreat to a dark corner waiting for better times ...
A soft breeze stirred by the light fingered shamelessly cedars, myrtles, pines, oaks and even the occasional lazy and bitter walnut crackled protesting that insolent interference. Between the thick branches, hundreds of birds flapped their wings and sang their songs to greet the dawn, Who else?, I thought, "Who else could have been chosen among all creatures to such a noble and fair job? ...
sighed for a few seconds and I felt that everything that permeated my lungs, I closed my eyes and dreamed of being part of that fun, being part of all in all, each myrtle, every cedar, each singing, all the wind ... I dreamed that dream a dream that died ... I opened my eyes and dreamed of living.
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