I am getting my little house together; had a man make me a small wooden table, made a bookshelf out of bloc and boards, am buying a bed today, and have made small sundry purchases... bowls, spoons, cups with lids, a big knife, etc. and so am feeling like I actually live in my one-room half of a little house. If it weren't for Colombina entering to sew and her bags and bags of material where little rats, mice and spiders make their homes and the way she comes up to my window to wake me up and annoy me with her overmotherliness and embarassing lack of propriety when perhaps, lets us say, I have a guest over-- if it weren't for all that, I might even enjoy a sense of privacy and sanctuary.
I am thinking about moving to a house with a kitchen and a private outhouse, but I spent so much time and energy and money painting my little house, and I would miss 'Poli and perhaps life isn't so bad in one cramped little room, because after all, the house is made of bloc and fairly secure. Time will tell if my steadily increasing tolerance and patience levels will suffice for the next two years in my current situation.
Things not to take for granted:
Coconuts swinging by their umbilical cords from my fist walking down the streets of Ocoa.
The sclattering of brown butterflies feigning the path of a windblown leaf.
Baby rabbits born nude and pelting out in a matter of days to snuffly cuteness.
The ambrosic perfume of cacao fruit as the white globules are cracked open from the yellow shell.