Blinding light. Sun at the top. Watering figs in summer and oranges till the end of winter. Memories of Córdoba and the family home. South and sunny. Oranges fresh from the tree. The same tree that lent me its branch so I could transform it into a necklace. The same oranges that have given their juice long ago hanging now like exvotos. Living memory of the intangible essence we are made of.