The transparent sun of early spring strokes your hair, tickles your cheek with soft warmth. There are no buds on the trees yet, everything around is still shackled by winter silence. Her skin also seems snow-covered, marbled, but spring rivers have already awakened under it, their elastic streams pulsate like veins under a thin cover. Water saturates the earth and in tiny seeds the sprouts of future flowers are already swelling and unfolding.
Now everything will not be the same as before. With every cell of her body, she feels in herself this new, still barely perceptible, emerging life, the beating of her pulse, the breath of her winds. This is the beginning. This is Love.