The Olive Oil Story: A Cold Harvest
The wind off the Strait cut hard that May morning. The market was waking slow, tables half-open, vendors blowing on their hands. I wasn’t looking for anything—just the walk, maybe a coffee, a loaf of bread.
Then I saw him.
A small man, wiry, with skin dark as old leather. His hands moved in steady motions, placing bottles in a row. His face had been carved by years outdoors, but his eyes were alive, sharp. The sign read: “Olive Oil.”
I stopped and looked again. “Morning,” he said. His voice was heavy with Italy.
“You’re selling olive oil?”
“Yes,” he […]
