Friday note — Eva wrote it down

I am writing this because the hall keeps a shorter version of friday note — eva wrote it down than the one I lived through. If you only heard it at the table after bread, you might think nothing happened. Something did. Nothing here is a shop. Not the jars, not the apples, not the boats, not my time. Ask with your name on the day you mean it. If this helped, you do not need to thank me. Put the thing back where the next person expects it.

Nothing here is a shop. Not the jars, not the apples, not the boats, not my time. Ask with your name on the day you mean it. If this helped, you do not need to thank me. Put the thing back where the next person expects it.

Someone will ask again in a week. The answer will have the same shape: read the paper, read the board, write two lines if you need a bed, and do not invent a meeting that was only rain.

Counted twice because I do not trust my own memory after bread. My boots are on the step. Green pair. If they are in your way, move them one metre, not into the long room. See you Thursday if the weather agrees.