Marina Matisse. Weightlessness (№ 361197)

The superfine mist blue muslin stretched across the field, lifting a thick grayish vapor to the crimson sky. Humid clean air, falling from the open window of the Ford, filled my lungs. The endless green fields that stretched for miles, connects with the sky somewhere near the horizon, being like a staircase to the clouds, but the arcane a moment of blissful morning, when the boundaries of heaven and earth was hidden from reality by a gentle haze of fog.