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.
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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.
