Someone said to me that I have a face which knows how to age.  Waking up in the morning, my hair often looks like I had been riding the devil  horseback.  If I am lucky, I won’t get thrown by some clandestine fate, even my muses will not share with me.  They do not whisper everything in the breeze brushing against my ear.

 

 

 

 

 

©Roseroberta