Window. Curtains, a blooming greengage tree. An open window with a view of the garden, a curtain pushed aside, an armchair. There whiteness and green play together. Spring enters with its scent and its gust of air. It is of this spring that I would like to dream in my grave. One can feel that someone was …
© 2026 Anna Akossiwa Atsu · Privacy ∙ Terms ∙ Collection notice
Substack is the home for great culture




