This one has changed in almost every way since I first saw it. In more than 15 years now, you have taken down walls, sanded every surface, we even destroyed the floor with our picks and shovels. Yet I'm still sitting in the same spot

It's a home, that's its most significant quality. Here I have seen you live, have fun and grow old. Here my kin was born and nestled in love and constant improvisation, they became the wonderful humans they are.

Everything is wood. Smooth, warm and comforting. Here we can simply be ourselves, together, existing in the same space, which is the best way to be together. Here it's safe and calm. All are welcome, and they come and go. You built a shelter against the world, but the world knew how wonderful you are and it came in anyway.

This one is close to my home and my heart. I go out and walk less than half an hour to the east, following the canal until I reach the mouth of a tiny stream. I follow the bike road, then walk carefully through a small briar patch and I get to a tiny path that's slightly secret.

This summer, it was where the glowworms were crowding, between a stream that is now dry much too often and a thin band of trees. It's not long, it takes but a few minutes to run to its end. But on that small secluded path, I never met anyone, though I have seen the traces left by others.

Someone built a small fire, someone slept in the grass, a few people spent an evening there talking. One day I saw a tent on the other side of the stream. It's but a tiny patch of woods, nothing special. But there I met a fox, there I came to be alone and think, and there I laugh when I'm done running and euphoria takes me.

It's a lovely place, I think you'd like it and I hope I can take you there one day.