April rains seem to be coming from another world, not as if the sky. He is the poet of hearts, the source of inspiration to the hearts of poets, when he falls into the hearts of oysters and pearls. The earth resides with him, and moves softly to the branches of the trees, the cansu and becomes waking up from the hibernation.
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You're in one of the city's tallest hills, when you're sitting in that lodge you're looking at. As the branches of the trees swing from side to side with the influence of the wind, something seems to hum. Butterflies and ladybugs come and go to the flowers, you want to touch their delicate bodies.
For the first time this place is a place of contemplation. When you warm the tea you hold in your hands, the drops from the artificial waterfalls hit you in the face.
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What do the contents of the cable cars adorn the scenery, while looking at this city from the top? Are they curious about the lives of passing over the houses? It was perhaps the smallest of the people that looked down on them and their interest in them.
When you feel your wind soaking up, then you leave the place and you stop right next to it, so you're stuck for a few hours in the past.
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