First day of spring.
The sausages are now grilling on the old grass marked in its soil with firecrackers, with butts, with caps of biers.
Since a week already couples have started their irritating game.
A man with grey hair, black backpack, searches for a place to sit with a worried look. A man, much younger, leaves his group and walks toward him ; asks him something ; the other man seeks in his backpack, taking a big bottle of bier out of it, receives some coins back.
Two guitarists play well, a little further up.
The life of plants will start again here.
Death spreads its power there, just there, behind some seas.
“You must believe in Spring”