The dawn does not donate flares of organza on cheeks inks of timid rose, on frothy sighs of candid snow that to the blinding light of star, he illuminates. The snowy summits establishes the close up between the eye and the horizon, the others are ollowed in the chromatic perspective of blue. Thrilling the cloud sea that invites the thoughts to padded dives, the hush mitigates the blows and translate in dream every intimate need of infinitely.

Franca Molinaro