abrupt change in weather is a little crazy-making. suddenly it's rain
every day and the forecast calls for nothing but the same. oslik the cat
sleeps all day. he is sane. the other day we got a notice in the maibox:
Hana Kroutilova died quietly on Sunday August 20 after a difficult illness,
aged 62. jakub is small enough that everyone gets an invitation to the
funeral. jarda explains that in a little village such as this everyone's
related. (present company excepted.)
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a few days later there's a notice tacked to the bar in the pub: Bohumil Jirak
dead at 85. was it the change in the weather? life and death in a little
village. pretty soon we'll be moving on and i wonder if i'm tiring of this
rootless existence. maybe it's just the rain, but little seems worth doing
and i find myself waking only to think in the dark about what i've done and
where it is i might be going...
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