she smelled of rosesand fresh coffee and rain

She has a new diary to write about shimmering dreams and first raindrops  of autumn and new books to get lost, one imaginary world after the other.

Her kitchen smells of tea or coffee - it depends on her mood. Sometimes it smells like vanilla. She leaves gold dust in her footsteps and weaves sun rays on the curtains.

Once in a while she picks flowers and put them on pillows - she realized they feed on dreams and don't die this way. She makes presents and little candies, she write love letters and lists of things that shouldn't be forgotten.

Her moon is always full.