a fleeting ripple

As the dusk leaves its place to the night, the world seems to still. The constant breeze stops, not even a leaf moves. Frantic birds...

Bugs of the night chirp outside, like the static of the television. Otherwise, it’s quiet under the ancient olive trees. Maybe they’re...

The wind chimes clink to a lovely melody as an otherwise silent breeze sneaks through the balcony doors. It carries a slight perfume of...