5 minutes of wanderlust
At least once a year I am seized by a fit of longing. Usually there’s nothing special triggering it: often it’s only a breath of wind that wafts the fragrance of a memory towards me, or the chirp of a bird which caresses my ear. Sometimes it’s simply the sight of the fir tree outside my window which awakens the wanderlust deep inside me. Then I close my eyes and imagine myself gone – gone to where I am always happiest: Avelengo.