A summer nap under the fig tree takes on the allure of an enduring and sacred ritual. As insects buzz through the perfumed air, we savour with happiness being able to selfishly enjoy a magical moment of stillness. In the garden languid with the heat, the mind wanders as the body relaxes in sweet torpor, ideal for dreams and meditation. Only the crickets insist on chattering.
'The hammock swings gently, shouts of laughter ring from the pool, the air drips with Mediterranean aromas… Time seems to have stopped.'