Bombay, in 1927.We stopped near a pool of water constantly refreshed by a small waterfall.The surface of the water dotted with pink figures wrapped by the scorching heat. Majestic, noble. It wasn’t the measured walking, not even the movement of the neck, slowly stretched. It was for the elegance with which we were ignored: it was their royalty. The red -historically- has always been the color of kings. The powerful rulers. The flamingo is a sovereign, but not a tyrant. He governs, not commands. He is not pink, he is red enough to be noble. And from that day on I could have never loved anyone the same way.100% silk twillHand-sewn hem
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