After a long wait, when June was getting over, I made it a farewell party. I packed my kitchen, books, and beloveds to a little chalet by an alpine lake. I sat outside, ignoring the afternoon sun that burnt my skin. I let it burn. They grow again. Skin. Hair. Joy. In night, I read in the dark room, under gigantic pine trees; I looked up often and there were always a handful of stars peeking from the open ceiling, omnipresent like best buds from memory. I cooked good meal, hiked down to collect pine cones, and some memories for the camera.