11th of September 2016
We hold in ourselves a suspend place called the enclosed garden. Is fairness is made of sparkling roses, gentle moss and elegant little ivies. Our soul knows keenly this place, full enchantments, because every time she faces a war, it is here that she returns to revive. Mine has been there for a while: bathing in roses, eating the magic from starlights — healing. Now, she breathes profoundly, she is genuine and pure again. She is not covered with the mantel of fears that we all wear. She let it fall into the floor to become moss, and than earth. She wears now a translucent dress made of hope, mercy and crystalline grace.