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It’s more likely going to be a very slow dismantling

This even quieter life we currently live, deprived of visits from family and friends because of Covid, although heightened in decisiveness (Ivory calls this determination to properly and ultimately deal with repairs ‘finally growing up’) it’s also generating an errant creative vocabulary.

All too often lately I fail to look for the omnipresent magic, too preoccupied with buying a near-new car for example and getting rid of the sadly rejected old one, you know, the really sensible things that enable our movements, but in a country where bureaucracy is never to be spit on but conversely endured, those doodads tend to take up so much time, temporarily leaving less room for bloom and any other colorful outings the writer in me fancies a full-fledged day to disclose.

Lamentably, I don’t feel any highfalutin personal patter in escorting our ever faithful companion Pierre, a fossilized Renault Express van, to its final destination on the local scrapyard, no matter how many sidetracks down memory lane are triggered by driving its last miles. Without solid sadness I was contemplating this poor friend being smashed to smithereens just minutes after the drop off, but while taking care of the paperwork it dawned on me that it’s more likely going to be a very slow dismantling, our Pierre being picked apart by optimists unlike me that recognize its still usable components. No release from responsibility reveals itself without mere melancholy, I surmise, end of an era stuff.

In the meantime our beloved paradise woke up among all these untenable expressions of Spring that won’t wait on me or my disinclined sulking. This year we are dreamingly surrounded by rapeseed fields screaming a yellow that bounces off our proverbial pink, unimpressed by my distracted mind, on the contrary, I’m convinced these miracles occur because I wasn’t looking.

Inspired by Ivory, who told me it’s time to watch the sunsets in our garden again, gaudy pretending it’s all caused by his encouragement, I brought two bottles of our favorite rosé from my weekly market visit yesterday. It was also Ivory who had to point out to me that our peach tree, just a seedling last year, is blooming for the first time.

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