Summer: Sangria, Dreams and Valletta

Recently I had the pleasure to share a very nice bottle of wine with someone like me. She is a dreamer, a flair for the unexpected and usual. Making every little thing, grow bigger, nicer, better.

All by making it bigger, better and nicer inside our head.

Thus from walking down the road of Valletta, talking and chatting about notebooks, writing and how we share our stories. (Well I do not really have a note book, BUT I do have this blog :D) We ended sitting down on a table with the number 18 on it. ( Side note, this is my favourite number) Listing to Jazz, smiling like idiots, and then we both closed our eyes.

All of a sudden, I was wearing a suit, a silver watch, a blue tie, while sipping my whisky. She was wearing a long black dress, with a green stash, it was sleeveless, but then she had long delicate gloves , bright green. Her hair was long and flowing, and she was cradling her wine glass with a spark of mischief in her eye.

Then we were back,

looking at each other and thinking,

What it would have been really like all the way back then?

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