The Shadow of the Olive Tree

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275

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The shadow of the olive tree, framed in the window, spreads over the parquet floor. The sun flooding the bedroom creates a whole new world. A different universe, all shaded in blacks and grays. The leaves of the bush appear all the more fine and delicate. The pot, on the other hand, is transformed into a mass that you would have thought immovable.

A few insects, no doubt large ones or they would pass unnoticed, come to fly around the plant. They must be seeking a further essence of the south than the sun. Drawn by the scent of the firm trunk and by that of the olives to come, they alight for a moment before setting off once more on a new journey through a landscape of concrete and stone.

Translated by Wendy Cross

275

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