Jul 1
My homeland smells
like freshly pressed olive oil,
like sweet fig jam,
like warm bread.
My homeland smells
like salty seas,
like endless deserts,
like ancient trees.
My homeland—
the place my soul resides,
my memories.
Mine.
like freshly pressed olive oil,
like sweet fig jam,
like warm bread.
My homeland smells
like salty seas,
like endless deserts,
like ancient trees.
My homeland—
the place my soul resides,
my memories.
Mine.
For those who carry home in memory, in taste, and in scent.
This one is for my homeland.
For all the places that shape us, even when we are far from them.
This one is for my homeland.
For all the places that shape us, even when we are far from them.
