Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 79

           Icanseethepinkcloudsreflectedinthestandingwaterofthericepaddies,liketherearetwoskies-oneupinheavenforthegods,andonedownhereinthemuddywet,justforusmortals.Theotherday,Irodeuptotheheronsanctuary,withitsgrudgingwelcomesign("OK,youcanseeheronshere"),buttherewerenoheronsthatday,justducks,soIwatchedtheducksforawhile,thenrodeonintothenextvillage.AlongthewayIpassedmenandwomenandchildrenandchickensanddogswhoall,intheirownway,werebusyworking,butnonesobusythattheycouldn’tstoptogreetme.

           Afewnightsago,onthetopofonelovelyriseofforestIsawasign:"Artist’sHouseforRent,withKitchen."Becausetheuniverseisgenerous,threedayslaterIamlivingthere.Mariohelpedmemovein,andallhisfriendsatthehotelgavemeatearfulfarewell.

           Mynewhouseisonaquietroad,surroundedinalldirectionsbyricefields.It’salittlecottagelikeplaceinsideivy-coveredwalls.It’sownedbyanEnglishwoman,butsheisinLondonforthesummer,soIslideintoherhome,replacingherinthismiraculousspace.Thereisabrightredkitchenhere,apondfullofgoldfish,amarbleterrace,anoutdoorshowertiledinshinymosaics;whileIshampooIcanwatchtheheronsnestinginthepalmtrees.Littlesecretpathsleadthroughatrulyenchantinggarden.Theplacecomeswithagardener,soallIhavetodoislookattheflowers.Idon’tknowwhatanyoftheseextraordinaryequatorialflowersarecalled,soImakeupnamesforthem.

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