My host grandparents say that they are just getting used to me and I'm leaving so soon. That's just one of the moments when life seems.. shorter or longer (? depends, really) than it actually is. Like today, we went to the local vineyard for lunch and I enjoyed it so much. Half of the time, I think, I was staring somewhere between the autumn leaves outside the window and the same colour, same sense of nature, only much more concentrated, much more obvious, in a glass of rosé at the opposite side of our table. Or am I the only one who thinks that it's more obvious?
Open discussion.
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