there's two rooms now. everything changes. zsuzsa's got her little space away from the noise. to sleep, to cuddle her small giraffe and sprout little psalms before and after sleeping. benoit wonders how we ever lived without a little bird in our life. the weather cools. the rains come. we're rugged up in wools and layers and spending the days making cuttings of wordwood and lavender, planting grape vines and olive trees. i'm starting to make my first patchwork with these new stitches i've learnt. we're still rending the wall with wet clay and straw, but only when the days warm up. dreaming of green grass. of goats. of a whole field of pasture. dreaming of this winter lasting forever so that the earth is drunk, drunk, drunk on all this water.
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