Wilderness

Among my homeland mountains, there’s this place where I got to revisit my childhood. At 8 in the morning, I picked my child up and we went hunting for edible boletus. The rosemary is from our host’s garden. The flavour is from God’s factory. The flavour factory, of course. That’s fine and dandy, but I’m starting to yearn for things. Maybe that’s not a bad thing either.

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