By Christos Tsagkaris
Even though it’s a pile of wood implanted in a hole through the basement floor, even though it cannot give us lost money or take care of our trembling health, the olive tree is our friend.
A tree is a warrior sleeping in his wooden armor—just like in fairytales. Its branches are his hands depicting the weight of time and the impression of fight. Its leaves—silver beyond the moonlight—are his swords. Its roots are his veins forging bridges from the ground to the air.
It is our friend who indicates the path from the earth to the sky.
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