smijeh...smijeh...smijeh

I could see what he felt. I knew that his heart was moved by the beauty and the vastness and the stillness. There´s a moment just before sunset when the light  on the marsh  is lovely. He used to stand and look at it and it filled him with bliss. He took long rides in those solitary, mysterious woods; they`re like the woods in a play of Maeterlinck`s, so grey, so silent, it´s almost uncanny; and there´s a moment in spring - it hardly lasts more than a fortnight - when the dogwood bursts into flower, and the gum trees burst into leaf, and their young fresh green against the grey Spanish moss is like a song of joy; the ground is carpeted  with great white lilies and wild azalea. He couldn´t say what it meant to him, but it meant the world. He was drunk with the loveliness of it.
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