A July evening, a suburban garden. You can smell iodine in the air from a nearby lake. On the table fruit and wine. Flowers and glassware. We’ve had soup. I turn on the dictaphone. The first minutes of the recording are a story about an old apple tree. Although its yield is high, no one wants to eat its tainted fruit – like the irony from the Book of Genesis.
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Article first appeared in: “Czas Kultury” no. 4, 2021, pp. 86-105
