There are days when the air suddenly becoming warmer, the birds are singing garrulous and clear, the days when the sun warms your face and hands and neck as you discover the hottest caresses.
There are days when the flowering mimosa shameless comes to tickle your nose, calm days of extreme excitement and inexplicable.
There are days when you remember you good because you were beautiful and had a good smell, the days when the thickness of the skin that you wore, is now a track to fish in your memory.
There are days when the somersault in the stomach, that you had moved away from here a long time ago, will surprise you as you walk hasty.
There are days when I think back to your feet soft and delicate that tan you turn on the cheeks.
There are days of early spring, that pinch as the coldest of winter days.
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