The valley is quite close to that place, of the gleaming crops of the greens of the olive tree, the almond, the walnut. A labyrinth of smells, a peacefulness of memories of perfumes of bonfires of another time: eloquent essences. The kind of wayfarers that survive there are signs of the time that ooze aromatic saps and are inscribed in this landscape with aerial roots that seek the smell of the light. And what is the smell of the light? It is the smell of the memories laid down like sediments, personal and non-transferrable.

Benet Rossell