AIR HAS A DIFFERENT SCENT ...you, me and the poems

There's a moment, sometimes imperceptible, when the air changes scent. It happens when someone enters our lives, when a word touches us, when a memory comes knocking softly. These poems are born there, at the exact point where the world becomes softer, where the wind moves the curtains and the light falls on simple things. They are verses that speak of encounters, of waiting, of shared breaths. Of you, of me, and of everything that remains suspended between one page and the next. A book to be opened like a window, to let in what smells new.