Shiobhan

The young lady sits on the new wicker chair. Her hand, with the scratchy quill, flies across the handmade paper as if by itself. Her heart beats fast; she must hurry, her maid will be back soon. She presses a longing kiss onto the paper and hides the letter...

Where do I know this smell from. …. Ah yes, the old wardrobe at Uncle Hans's. And damp backs of old oil paintings Then there was the Indian shop in Wiesbaden. Just for clothes and stuff without food. And then there was a wellness oasis in Bali...