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It’s a bit chilli today, so I throw on a khaki sweater and sit on the mint-colored rug on the balcony next to the lavender and rust-yellow yarrow.

Bread with mashed banana, chocolate butter, and strawberries. A sip of coffee—the taste of the air. The July morning fills me with bottle green, emerald, olive, and pastel green.

I wonder, whispering: fox, fox. Does the fox know that he/she is a fox? I don’t see him/her in the garden today. Maybe he/she is hidden in the tall beige grass. But there a faithful blackbird with orange beak flies by.

I rest my feet on the stones I brought from the beach. Seagulls squawk. The sun illuminates my knees. The wind sways the birch branches. I hear its rustle: swish, swish, swish… A slight mess on my balcony, hair growing on my legs. Ding dong.

In this iluminous silence, I can have everything. It doesn’t matter that it all falls from my hands. Because my fifty-year-old body is preparing for change. It’s not old age yet, it’s just the cosmos trying to fits itself evenly in my hair, in my arms, in my hips, on my belly. Breathe. Be bored. Look at.. Pack a backpack for Prague, and then head to Jedlina.