Mornings start this week with a new layer of snow and its disappearance before the noon. Evenings are full of fog and rain drops, mellow soundscapes, vanished colors. March is tricking.
Between discarded cotton paper piles patterns are hiding. Between patterns hide treasures. Between a gift, an old book, hide big leaves which someone has picked up from gigantic trees in Germany decades ago. I wonder if those trees are still breathing and making pure air for us.
It smells jasmine here, tea is brewing. A cup of tea to you too and then a bicycle trip to the town!