exhausted we’re lost high on some tiny hills somewhere in a valley of paradise overlooking a misspelt ancient Spanish warfield dripping olives Ryan snoring at my feet wishing i was out under sun with dead (but now second life) wood baby in hand

In the gathering room we gather for everything even though it might seem crowded sometimes and it gets too warm in the summer afternoon because of the windows that point to the south although I could put up awnings or blinds but then why have…