The Sky

When I walk along these dusty country roards usually I watch around me to see the landscape: green hills, old country houses (often abandoned), small woods, old trees, fields.

But I've got to admit that maybe too rarely I look up to see the sky. The sky is a special and silent friend always accompanying the slow solitary walker.

The sky always look at me when I walk alone even when I look around me or downwards and I do not realize its continuing changes. Sometimes dotted with white coulds, sometimes full of black rainy clouds preparing a storm, sometimes completely clean.

I look up and I see the sky appearing over the trees and, like the sea does, after a while its face has already changed.