It is not a ring for special occasions. It lives in your jeans pocket and in the first coffee,
on the motorbike and under the linen shirt. You put it on once, and you stop thinking about it.
On the roadLeather, denim, and a ring that is not afraid of the day.The lakeA sweater, cold water, no hurry.The first coffeeIt is already there, before everything else.The windA hand through the hair, and it is there.SundayLinen, window light, nothing planned.High upThin air, sun on the hands.Hands in pocketsIt does not come off for anyone.The seaSalt, sun and sand: they do nothing to it.SaturdayJeans, a bench, sun on the hands.On the wayBackpack on, the road ahead.The shoreWind in the linen, titanium on the finger.Rolled-up sleevesLinen, salt, and nothing to take off.
You put it on once. Then you stop thinking about it.Every day
