My balcony. May. The unexpected heatwave has come and shriveled the blooming flowers. Their papery carcasses lie on my tile, the sweetness of jasmine and the tartness of geranium now but a thin memory.
My balcony. May. The unexpected heatwave has come and shriveled the blooming flowers. Their papery carcasses lie on my tile, the sweetness of jasmine and the tartness of geranium now but a thin memory.
