Too many memories

This represents for me what life is like in the village now. Today I went over with M to the next village to buy a pane of glass for a window I broke, and each bend in the road brought back a memory of Teleri and her camera: the route was as packed with memories as these shelves in my attic are with mementoes of family life. In the attic, as in life here, I can't move easily. There's just too much stuff.

M has a project to buy a house in Pézenas, nearby, and we heard yesterday that the last administrative obstacle to that has been lifted. So maybe by the end of the year we'll have our own new space. We'll both have room to move and to breathe.