Sometimes we lose contact with ourselves, little by little we forget ourselves. It happens that we tear the most luxuriant moments of our lives to shreds and lock ourselves in thorny topics.
Behind the tangles of our thoughts, life sprouts impetuously, three children play at climbing the highest foliage, colors flash from the truest things, a smell insinuates itself into our memory and overwhelms us. It smells of rebirth and riots of flowers.
