The Hill is magical. Everywhere. For it plays with its light, its air, its odor and it’s mystery around every blind corner.

I have always been amazed by how a hill plus with its lights. The morning brightness, the afternoon grey and finally the silvery slopes brightened by moon’s generosity.

I have always been amazed by the shift of faces with the shift of light.

Shifting faces

As the last rays of the golden ball

Kiss goodbye, there is momentary

Darkness

A light, but not lighted, we look for

Those familiar faces, they look so

Different

Till slow and slowly, the silver ball

Appears from behind clouds, soft

Statement

That it has arrived to calm weary

Minds of the day, tormented with

Watching

It is time for rest

News faces will appear, Morning

Again

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