In late September, there is a moment that I become aware of the scent of a fragrant olive.
It is like an announcement that I receive at certain times of the year.
And it seems like it brings little pleasure.
This year as well, the moment came suddenly too.
It was as if the fragrant olive came to inform me “I have blossomed”.
And, on the balcony where I hang out the laundry, I view the blossoms
admiring the dutifulness, which I usually pay no attention to. (H.S)