Start chopping splinters to make fire. Bring wood from the room behind the workshop. Don’t cut your hand. Keep the fire going. Do you like it here at all? Wouldn’t you like to go back to Prague? No, I don’t want to see Prague yet. I’m getting better here. I’m at the roots. We did live here before we moved to the cities. At least our ancestors. Great-grandmother kept chickens here, didn’t she? They lived here. The days here are the same. I started reading books. I still sleep a lot, but at least not all the time. And I read.

The young people left to work in the cities. And the young people from the cities went to the villages? No. There are only settlers and children here. I once saw so many children and people outside in the ‘village square’ in the village that I thought – is it the same village in which there is not normally a foot? Take out the ashes, yes, yes, don’t forget to take out the ashes. Somewhere. The ground here is moist, water stays in the fields for several days and does not absorb. The field sprouts with green grass but should be cold at this time. The ground should be covered with a white canopy. Roses bloomed in Prague on Christmas Day. Is winter coming? This is not a city, the winter is still here. Just a little different. More fresh, fragrant earth. Fresh air. A whirlwind that leans against your back.

Go on.

A month ago, they plowed the fields on the other side of Kamenná. Cobwebs lined the lumps of the ground, and the sun leaned against them so that the ground seemed to glitter. The next day there was dew on the grass, dewy cobwebs like small tufts of luck, just sitting in the meadow.

I.

My mother and I were walking through the pastures outside the village at the full moon. There was light. The moon, like a huge dome, illuminated the entire pasture directly from the side. We had knee-boots. Happy was happily running around us on a lead. We reached the high seat in the center of field and then we turned around. Dark. Inhale it. Let it wrap you up. She’s fine, she heals, she won’t judge you. Dark. Quiet, dense darkness. And the moon. In the distance. Infinity.

II.

I slipped as we walked Happy. I rolled in the dirt, wondering what embarrassing moment it was. T. just offered me his hand. I had my hand smeared with mud, so I got up on my own. Stupid self-sufficiency. And then we’re surprised we don’t have gentlemen anymore. I chose the worst way for us through the muddy field until we had a huge clay sole on our sneakers. I was apologizing to him the whole time. I’m sorry. We can clean it home. The pastures were shrouded in the sunshine and we just talked and talked. I mean, I listened. Happy seemed satisfied with this walk. And since he was teasing her right at the beginning of our walk, she wasn’t very calm either. Then we played football in the garden. Respectively, Happy and T. played together. Me too, but it’s a bit of a shame that I have both legs left. The sun, the sun everywhere, but it didn’t get to me. Only those rays seemed pleasant on the face. At least one star was running across the lawn in the garden. Tired Happy. Bus stop. So goodbye, I’m glad you stopped by. The last wave. Fucking luck. Tiny things. Good visits. Such a small fine piece of life.

Just small delights. Do you see them now?