'My village is blue and green. It consists of eight houses, one watermill, six wells, two streams and a river. I grew up playing with the neighbouring kids. In summer, we lived in the river. We swam until we could no longer feel our limbs and then rested on our body boards, laughing and eating chocolate bars until our trembling lips were no longer blue. In spring and autumn, we built dams across the streams. Our masonry skills were rather poor. I think we were too eager and often rushed the job. We used algae to caulk breaches. It flowed through our precarious constructions like fairy hair glittering in the sunlight. In winter, we gathered around the wells. We threw stones down their shafts to gauge how much water they held. We had a technique. Like for storms where the time between lighting and thunder indicates the numbers of kilometres, we counted the seconds and analysed the loudness of the echoes to estimate water mass. It was always great.' (Introduction)
