Postcard to Mum.

At this time of the year I was offered a pomegranate, round and red, and amazingly bright and juicy inside with thousands of shiny purple pearls packed in very tight rows separated by yellow soft partitions. It was fairly difficult to extract the pearls without crushing them and tearing the yellow partitions. So I ended up contemplating this amazing architecture for fear of damaging it. I hardly ate these pearls. Luckily this amazing fruit dries up and even now I keep it, like in those days.

And this is what I can find in my memory with your voice of that time:

Mum, that was a real treat.
Is it a coïncidence? I am spending most of my time here: