The Scent Of Rosa's Oil. Lina Simoni

war.

      During her morning missions, Rosa discovered how much she loved to stroll in the caruggi alone and that she could do it without losing her way. She had followed Madam C in that maze since she had been able to walk, so that unknowingly she had built a map in her head of all the streets. Sometimes she took detours from the shopping route to go smell the spices at the Sottoripa markets, by the port, with all the ships nearby. She suspected by then that where those ships were going there were no talking birds or rainbow-colored leaves and no hut where her father lived in poverty and fished to survive. It wasn’t that important, she found out. Dreams were dreams, thoughts that lasted as long as one believed in them, and if her dreams of talking birds, rainbow leaves, and a hut by the water had been undone, surely there must be something across the ocean to replace them, something that would make the trip there worthwhile. In those days, she was reading avidly the books Madam C had bought for her. They were mostly books of sea adventures, which scared her sometimes, but also taught her about navigation, stars, storms, and sailors’ lives, making her longing for a sea trip even stronger. In the meantime, she felt so good inside when she could just look at the ships and smell the spices, and then walk the caruggi on the way home. “I’m Angela’s daughter,” she said to herself with her head held high.