Chuck, chuck, chuck… called the landscape of our childhood. And we approached that wild chicken coop. It offered us a roe deer that observed us, a green woodpecker that was blending with the background, and several gardeners that gave us courgettes and onions. And then came the low fog of winter mornings, and the frost. The water flowed through the gutters, and we ate loquats from the tree, fresh and free of charge. And we could not leave. Because we wanted to be part of that landscape, without making noise, with our eyes open and a joyful spirit.
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