Vista panoramica

I walk towards the field where the wild sorrel grows.

I have left Bogena's potatoes in a small pile on the planks of the bridge where they are glowing like eggs.

I cut the sorrel plants with my pocket knife. They are about the size of young dandelions, but the green of their leaves, like their taste, is both sweeter and more acid.

They grow in clumps together, so I sit down and spread out my handkerchief on the grass

and place the cut leaves on it.

'Here is where we meet' by John Berger