The wind blows strongly
in the branches of the tree that overhangs me.
From right
to left.
This time I prefer silence.
I like this place,
even if it’s in the city.
It smells a bit like my source garrigue, that of my grandparents. Dirt paths that slip a little
and stones.
Here, the sight of the sea.
It blurs at the edge of the earth.
I come here on foot.
It makes room again
in me.
The wind blows a little stronger
and crumbs of leaves come in my eyes I didn’t bring a sweatshirt.
I feel rather at my place
here.
A pine cone threatens to fall on my head.
“Breathe”, you texted me. Now I’m a little cold. And hungry.
I’m heading back down the path under the pines.
The one of pancake day.
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Read the French original version on Instagram: @aurianealx
