Lantern low — Luuk wrote it down

I am writing this because the hall keeps a shorter version of lantern low — luuk 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. I will not reply to every thank-you. I will notice if the kettle is on the cellar stair again.

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. I will not reply to every thank-you. I will notice if the kettle is on the cellar stair again.

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. Train was late. Bus was not. I still made Friday. Thin and true beats a calendar of maybes. See you Thursday if the weather agrees.