Early morning is a precious time, always, but now in a very special way.

The refreshing fingertips of night have wiped away the sticky and sultry traces of the former day and the new one is still intact in its ephemeral cleanness.

Like all nice things, for the mysterious alchemy that makes them temporary to give them their value, it won’t last.

The only wise attitude is to enjoy it.

I wonder why the repetitive song of a fountain is relaxing and, in this circumstance even more refreshing, while a dripping tap can drive us crazy...

All is relative and strictly connected to a specific context, I suppose.

I savour every drop of this atmosphere and I’m well.