One of the most beautiful cities of our country. The place where, at every step you come across building that represent different cultures, characteristic for our neighbors. It 's a place where old and new combine to create such complex and distinctive habitation.
I wish...I wish we could let ourselves killed again by the humdrum arrows of Cupid...I wish...for a scented drop of rain to wash away the shadowed past..I wish..
I remember a trip..I remember cold weather and drizzle, and I remember this bramble. It is not a delicate flower but it's surely a prodigy of the nature, created with a purpose, and remember...even roses have their thorn.
A flower that gives definition to the word...yellow.
A colour so beloved that is eulogize in songs, songs that give recognition to great voices.
Wild Flowers...
Usually, few people know their names.
Some find them insignificant.
I think they are very beautiful. Marked by their sensitivity, they parch as soon as they are picked. That' s why I think they are better left in their environment.
It takes thousands of years for them, the hasty rivers, to create their own way. Nothing can stand between them and their purpose, either the power of rocks nor the massiveness of the mountains. And their purpose is, from the beginning of time, to waste into the immensity of water.
Not all of them get to reach their goal, but most of them manage to give us views that make us feel so insignificant.
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