i walk through the slightly yellow grass. to the apple tree. in all the world, this apple-tree is unique. it grows only here, only now – and only for about a week the apples are what they are – transparently honey-sweet, delicious, juicy, fragrant, unforgettable.

they smell of the calm of autumn. and this place that has all my roots, my despair, where my hope is buried.

strange, that.

Categories: En

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