My gaze ranges and goes far.
Watching from my lap the islands immersed in the blue of the sky and water, you feel lighter, as if you were taking flight, carried away by the wind that blows and ruffles the foliage of my trees.
I am not dressed in walls and my sky is not made of tiles but of sun and stars, of fresh curtains that move in the wind,
of sunny wooden terraces, and laughter, and diving.
I smell of the sugar of August figs and the essential oil that releases from the lavender flowers. My color is the silver of the olive tree leaves that stand out tall against the rainbow of my garden flowers. My voice is the warbles of swifts and the buzz of insects greedy for pollen.I am are rejuvenating and relaxing.

I am the
The Islands Fields