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Jacek Margolak

Cherry Orchard

It's my fifth hour of driving. The sun sets in the rear mirror; only a few more kilometers and I'll be in my home village. I can already see my grandpa`s old orchard, blushing with cherries. The mere thought of them makes my mouth water; their taste are always a memory from my childhood. I pull over at the first tree, slamming the car door impatiently.

dusk falling—
above the cherry orchard
a flock of starlings