Interview to Francisco Brines

Abstract

In the big house or farmhouse (but not farmhouse, because Francisco Brines, Paco for his friends, does not like the augmentative), located in Elca, near Oliva, where the old poet has returned to live, April floods with its radiant light the orange trees with their golden fruits that are lost in the blue line of the sea. All is trill and birdsong. A sparrow has made its nest in the mouth of a small amphora and looks surprised at the intruder. The surroundings smell of orange blossom and jasmine, and the perfume blends with the colours of the hibiscus, acanthus, myrtle, geraniums and wisteria, which run through the garden and climb the inner walls of the building.