My Descriptive Essay: My Experience At Home

I was in a garden. I felt wind pushing me back with her soft and cold hands, touching my face, playfully disheveling my hair, making me step back, like a naughty lover. The sky was painted in mesmerizing bright colors. The air was fresh and the weather was sunny.

My eyes were closed. I breathed deep and slow. I was overwhelmed with the sweet smell of ripened juicy water-melons, the taste of cucumbers, tomatoes, nostalgic chirping of birds, and the surreal touch of running my hand through rows of iridescent flowers. I was going to miss so much. There, I felt at home like I was tugged into bed at night by my mother. I desired to soak in the art in the air of Tuscany which I could see and smell but could not grasp.

I walked into a village.

I brought it up to my eyes, that is when I saw her. In a building, in front of me, she was standing in a small balcony with her hands on its rust adorned iron balustrade.The balcony was doused in golden gleam of her skin, she was tall and dazzling: wearing a becoming purple gown, her long, brown, curly hair blew back due to the mischievous wind. She was twisting one of her hair locks while smiling at me with eyes deep as abyss. I felt fear of losing her without even having her. I was terrified by the ephemeral nature of that moment. I was frightened and captivated at the same moment like a nubile looking at a bridal gown through the glass window of a store.

Then she grimaced and looked away. Inadvertently, my hand moved over my chest, over my heart; it bruised my hand red like a broken shard of glass. I was in pain. I was still looking at her. She had cast a spell on my spirit. Then she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and puffing her chest. Was she trying to seduce me? She let out a soft moan, I waited with bated breaths, my heart stopped beating to watch, while my blood was turning toxic and burning my nerves. It was