The smell of the ocean

Today, I booked a flight to a place I haven’t been in a year. But even with my eyes closed, I would still be able to ride my bike to the little fortress by the marais [marsh].

With the sound of the wind through the wheels as the only music, and the smell of the ocean écume [froth] as the only perfume.

And I can’t wait to spend time with my grand-mère. Taking care of eachother, sharing secrets and recipes.

In fact, I’ve been looking at pictures from a season I thought I’d rather forget. With a smile on my face.


  1. Such lovely photos as usual…really captures the essence of a place. I love too how certain sights and smells and sensory experiences can simply and powerfully bring us back…

  2. Does your granny also tell the same stories, again and again? And do you find it incredibly satisfying? Mine likes the one where my grandpa accidentally threw away a precious lemon’s worth of juice during the war…

    Have a lovely day!

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