Following the footpath, she softly winds her way to the sanctuary of dappled light and dancing leaves of her beloved reading-tree.
Beneath these exquisite boughs of beauty she can rest, restore. Here, she can breathe, can set her scented thoughts free, to explore. Worlds, words, ideas… soar… come alive in the pages of her book. The day slows to here, now. To this. Cradled in the roots and lifted by the perfume of the finest Fig tree, she sighs – bliss.