The tense, cold fragrance of daybreak mysteriously batters the vast, sheer cliff of the night.
On the glossy page of the sky, the first letter of a cloud was trembling, and beneath my balcony a nightingale and a frog raise aloft a sleepy criss-cross of sound.
Calm yet melancholic, I make my final preparations, hindered by the subtlest emotions of wings and concentric circles.