Villa Betania, in San Sebastian, had a wonderful, lusty, semi-abandoned garden with tall trees.
There was a long hill and the morning walk, in search of El País, was a trip in itself. The best memories to recollect were the many afternoons spent by a tiny window, which overlooked a heavily pregnant pear tree, whilst sitting in front of an old Olivetti typewriter, which stubbornly kept many of my thoughts locked within its keys.
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