"A place where buildings are centuries old, screens absent in windows, flowers spilling from eveywhere---old pots, watering cans, window boxes, over stone highwalls, climbing up to shuttered windows, jasmine scent cascading on one side competing with honeysuckle to its left and right, wild poppies, cultivated poppies, flowers, flowers, flowers, everywhere.
The light, soft sound of proper french conversation. Neighbor delivering roses called the Queen's rose that are breathtakingly long stemmed and so perfect as to defy being real at all. A village so small, so stacked upon itself that I can lose myself in a walk and never be lost at all. Steps, steps and more steps down to the center of the village."
~My Journal, June 2012
Get Dreama's Blog and Newsletter in Your Inbox...for FREE! Just Click to Subscribe:) Pin It