Rain, falling slowly on the spring grass. Its' yellow strands bravely claim the renewed rays of sunshine, and seem to gain color with each passing second. Comme la fin d'une mauvaise grippe, la terre embrasse la vie nouvelle qui s'anime autour d'elle. My face feels sympathy, because my cachot forbade me to leave. The hope of a new life is kindled, and laughter once again rules the day. The winter speaks no more.
So I haven't written on this excuse of a blog in a long time. Really, I am my only visitor, so I may indulge. Second session almost over; I look forward to this summer and the precious moments it brings...if only Neroli knew.
