Behind high walls cypresses’ stand dignified and tall, the iron-gate leading, in to a silent Paradise, is open white marble and names in golden letters.
In here traffic noise dies down, a perfect spring day
comes to an end. I feel at ease here, have no regrets, this place will one day be my home.
The gardener smokes a cigarette, fine Turkish blend, tickles my nose, wish I could smoke too. With a big key he locks up and wishes me safe journey.