It’s late spring and the symphony of colors and smells is almost blinding.
The sun dazzles, lilac, bounganville, prickly pears, acacia, broom, sunflowers, lemons, a bunch of lavender and roses that release hundreds of scents.
A mesh of sun lying on the walls of houses, ecru of small beaches of sand and pebbles, gray of rocks, brown of mountains and shrubs, transparencies and sea crystals.
Here are the coasts of home again, the familiar coasts.
Sunshine and nuances agree with the clothes that Marguerite has brought with her from the long journey through the mare nostrum.
It was pleasant to stay for a while in a country with a mysterious grace and charm. Twines of traditions and layers of cultures.
The blue houses and the pink roof tiles and the walks in the early hours of the evening in the Moorish gardens, fountains and streets where a slow melody flows interrupted only by the sound of the minarets, all this remain etched in the memory.
She wears klein blue dresses with the stripes of his friend painter and the fauve flowers, cadmium yellow, milk white, multitudes of fields in flower, watercolored flowers and ferns magnified on white fields.
Marguerite is back home.
Immersed again in her familiar vegetation.
The green of her Mediterranean garden is luxuriant, intricate, variegated, invaded by the sound of the piano and, above all, populated by her loved white doves, life mates and guardians of secrets.
Special thanks to Floriana Di Carlo Photographer