Everybody was gone so I took over the kitchen table, covered it with piles of paper that needed to be made sense of, leaving a little space for plate and tea glass. How enticing everything else seemed, even the choriest chore ! But I went through it all, digressing from time to time and eating well when needed.
Forgot to mark the day but I am now longer in this country than in the land of my birth. I have written here about being in exile before and it seemed that some people read that I was planning to go home. Where is home ? Home is where I am. I like being in exile, the freedom of it : I have been able to leave once, I can walk again if need be—once you are not tied down, it is nice to be where you are. This was a voluntary decision, perhaps even life-saving at the time, perhaps also influenced by definite genes or more violent precedents in the previous generations. Like a majority of people in the world today I speak in my everyday life a language that was not my mother tongue, we are a two-ish language household and counting. But really I am at home where I am, and I am here now, and happily so. There are things I am aiming to change of course, I wish to have more certainty about where it is I live and certainly about the land I work on and where I house the animals I care for and who provide food for us. I would love in the future to have bees, snails, quails, and perhaps even a carp pond. I would love to not have to pack my books, my printing press and my things too often in the future, I am not switching to digital everything for ease of movement, I like being in the one place and around here suits me good.
Why do I like it here ? Difficult to put it into words, although I did a number of times in the past for various publications. It is scarcely populated and so very human. Where else would I need such a short address ? It is where my life has led me, and I am accepting of my life.