“Every morning, not as early as we would find it glorifying in the west, she arrives at the empty corner of the street, which through my eyes awaits garbage bags and construction waste. She scatters the plastic stools around, sets her table, and bends her body, caressing the ground with a bundle of straw. And the ground that was waiting for garbage is now the floor of an invisible and silent castle. The empress of this domain reveals her majesty in every little gesture: as she sweeps the floor, as she slowly arranges the old tins and jars over the table, holders of her herbs and secrets. The action begins: cardamom, ginger, cinnamon and coffee fumes rising up to the sky…” – April, 2010.
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