Fenugreek, Tuesday's spice, when the air is green like mosses after rain.

Each spice has a special day to it. For turmeric it is Sunday, when light drips fat and butter-colored into the bins to be soaked up glowing, when you pray to the nine planets for love and luck.

Fennel, which is the spice for Wednesdays, the day of averages, of middle-aged people. . . . Fennel . . . smelling of changes to come.

There was an unexpected freedom in finding out that one wasn't as important as one had always assumed!

A dream is a telegram from the hidden world...Only a fool or an illiterate person ignores it.

Or is this how humans survive, shrugging off history, immersing themselves in the moment?

That's how it is sometimes when we plunge into the depths of our lives. No one can accompany us, not even those who would give up their hearts for our happiness.