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Amrita Aromatics

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There is the rain. It rushes on the roofs. It falls in torrents on the trees in the front garden. It washes the pollen from the lemon blossoms into the earthy bubbles above the ground. They wander over the old roots, washed out by the drifting...

This year everything is different. Advent... a time of waiting... for whom? I am alone... A tree? No! Not this year. I want to escape. Where to? My feet carry me along the familiar path into the forest. This time it is different. As...