You ask me to speak to you of the smell of the fountain of Llorá, but it is not easy to be sure if you want me to speak to you of the real fountain or the painted fountain. The latter, the painted fountain, in which the water makes folds of linen as if it is bubbled up dressed and dried, most certainly has a strong smell of tupertine and linseed oil… On the other hand, I really could not tell you the smell of the other, the real fountain. It is not a particularly smelly fountain. Llorá is not one of those fountains that stink of the devil’s piss, nor is mentholated by a fragrance of aromatic animals find this herbs… Although it is more than likely that the wild boars and other animals find this fountain by smell, it is not the smell that take us there. Nor do we manage to find it by sight, amid that dense growth of poplars and hazelnut trees that box it in, but by the sound. The fountain of Llorá sounds, in fact, just as if I were to pronounce its name to you: it is a rising and continuing sound, like the name “Llorá”. We know the fountain by its sound, which is difficult because it always sounds the same, because the sound dances there like a flame, but does not change.
Perejaume