It's good to get back to nature. Walking along a one-lane cobblestone street tucked alongside a mountain. A small port town where people have lived for hundreds of years. Walk out your front door, and in three steps, your daily commute (by boat). Continue along the curve of the mountain until you are on a dirt path.
The smell of wild mint hits you with every gust of wind. Pick, thinking of ice cream and cool drinks. Pareta belarrak, you are told. Herbs that grow on the wall. The old man out for his stroll tells you they're good for infusions, and that there's another useful for cleaning out your digestive system. Seven days fasting, drinking that herb steeped in water.
Then dandelions along the path, their bitter greens waving in the wind. Pick, thinking of pasta or a gratin.
Wild berries, some tart, some sweet, drying but with a more concentrated flavor.
Food comes from nature. We're so unlucky to think that's worth photographing, that's worth exalting. I envy those who consider it normal and everyday. But perhaps we're the ones in the right, celebrating something worth celebrating, something that others take for granted.