On a pleasant autumn evening, in the golden light, the cold suddenly swept over me.Opening the front door, I turned to look one last time at the last stem of the tuberose flowers, a gift from a summer that had survived, thinking that in the morning I would go and pick it up to get drunk for a few days more on its smell. Since then, at a time when artificial lights respond to the night, the tuberose spreads a scent of jasmine, plum and spices.