Listen, my heart, in his flute is the music of the smell of wild flowers, of the glistening leaves and gleaming water, of shadows resonant with bees' wings. The flute steals his smile from my friend's lips and spreads it over my life. Rabindranath Tagore

must you go so soon?
I have stories to tell you
what is your hurry?

When I was traveling alone, I was never lonely