“Whenever I caught a cold. My mother would mix up a drink for me, dissolving honey in hot water, adding a splash of whisky, squeezing in the juice of a lemon. She was still doing that for me when I was at high school. On one of those evenings when children were bleeding and being tortured here, I was being pampered by her. Maybe that is what this world is. Precisely that? For some reason my mother called her drink “bee honey”. No matter how many times I pointed out it was really more like ‘honey lemon’’ she said her name was better and kept it. I seemed to feel the hot, sweet taste of it filling my mouth. It’s the same all around the world. A mother’s scent. A whiff of the female body, and something heavy, sweet, endlessly deep. That scent was here now, filling the plaza, circling it, because there was no other outlet, going around and around.”
Yoshimoto Banana, “Bee Honey”, 2000.
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