Clear

A white cloud creeps across the deep pile of evergreens. From inside the forest it seems like an interior matter, something to do with the trees, like a color passed from one to another, a requirement to which they submit unflinchingly like soldiers or brave people getting older.

Then the sun comes back and it’s all over.

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About Mauro Metallo

A Writer and Photographer equally at home in Italy and in Canada.

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