The host of our new site could only be you.
When we adopted you we thought we were giving you a home but it was immediately clear that we would be the tenants of your new kingdom.
You settled down and you filled all the space around with you, with your joy, curiosity and infinite, immense affection; you, so small and so gigantic.
Now that you’re gone, even the proportions of the rooms seem different, all empty, silent, a continuous half-light.
Even the guests who come back to visit us look for you as soon as they get out of the cars, and when I tell them that you won’t be there anymore begging for biscuits for breakfast they look at me as if it were impossible.
It seems the same to me, despite the fact that it’s been so long since you left us.
And in the evening, from my deck chair under the pergola, I still see you there, little sorcerer, watching over the valley from the point that will always be your place.
