Set in a small country town, the novel carries an apocalyptic undertone from the very beginning. The heroine, Anna, narrates in a voice that is mysteriously inscrutable. We follow her daily life in intimate detail—from morning to night—yet she remains elusive. Her obsession draws her into a distorted inner world, where the scent and rustling of herb-filled sacks exert a fatal allure. Perhaps it’s a family curse that once claimed her grandmother, or maybe it’s simply the end of June—the busiest time of year for herb collectors.

The plot advances through a meticulous collection schedule. Each day, Anna sets off into the countryside on her old bicycle. Everything is in bloom, and she is obsessed with gathering linden blossoms, marigolds, mullein, deadnettle… Once a week, she eagerly visits the herb purchasing center. Not even her waning strength can stop her. Her urge to collect intensifies, even as her exhausted body begins to falter.

Beneath the slow, calm narration, a strange unease simmers. The author masterfully transforms an innocent pastime into a profound existential metaphor. With a refined style in which every word feels carefully chosen, the novel draws us deeper with each chapter—into the primal Earth, into the curse of collecting healing herbs.