once upon a time

Once upon a time In May, in the landscape where I used to live, dainty light green buses appeared, seemed to have no roots, fragile, pure sea air, in a temporary material form Then, one morning, not a trace, they had gone back to the ocean again, to ethereal waves of beauty once more so easily disturbed by the North Westerly wind Once this scenery had been farmed, mind, tiny plots for beans and potatoes, where donkeys grazed among olive trees; it was the donkey that had made farming possible, and still, we see them in Sudan carrying a family's belongings when fleeing poverty and wars. Walking among ruined stone dwellings, I could see traces of what had been living rooms and kitchens, now many had bushes growing through the floors Domestic plants, like Holm oaks, olive trees, and date bushes, had grown at their own rate and looked alien like a fairy tale written by Hans Christian Andersen Fascinating, but slightly scary at the same time, when hearing a sound, one quickly looks, alas, only a rabbit The, great tales from my childhood are acutely recalled I'm aware it was poverty that made people leave this paradise, beauty does not fill the stomach of the hungry I sense the presence of voices, and I'm moved