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It’s the conjuring of exotic lands.
It’s the waft of fragrant scents upon me.
It’s the call of faraway lands at my whim.
It’s the colours of the powders and the potions I create.
It’s the thought of heavily laden camels as they stumble over the windswept dunes.
It’s the market places and the allure of unusual sights and sounds so very different from the known.
It’s the hint of flavour on my palate.
It’s the full frontal attack of flavour.
It’s the tastes and textures of exotic elements captured for a moment in my hand.
It’s the connection to my husband and his culture.
It’s the connection to my new family, even the ones I haven’t met yet.
It’s the connection to the people’s and ways of the past.
It’s the comfort the aromas provide for me.
It’s the loyalty of the fragrances and the textures of the seeds and powders.
It’s the feeling of alchemy as I cook each night.
It’s the conjuring of a women steeped in black, her hand tattooed in henna, as she offers me an unknown clove or leaf.
It’s the feeling of home when I step through that door at the end of a long day and feel the pull of the spice cupboard.
It’s the colours and shapes of the seeds, the pods, the barks, the leaves, the flowers that I use.
It’s the nearness of those I love when they are far away.
It’s the beck and call of a familiar friend.
It’s knowing that I’m doing something right each day.
It’s the feeling of getting healthier and healthier as each day goes by.
It’s the feeling of being closer to nature, and of feeling proud of myself when I see the beautiful results and smell the scents of a job well spiced.