It was like a morning of one thousand mild suns: pale rays entered through the magnificent window, which was painted in undertones of gold. The paper walls were covered in a silky rosea pattern of colors, contrasting with the bluish-green extravagant curtains pending down from top to floor. He rose up from the bed and a slight perfume of musk was up on the air; the polished wood of the floor didn't produce any sound as he tiptoed towards the window: endless hills under a balmy summer, from the perspective of this ancient castle made of red bricks; at the bed, sleeping as a pair of nymphs, Manu and Julie, one at each side of the bed, only the gap with the size of a sole body between them, and their hair would crossover on an intersection he'd never imagine before.
2009