Even with winged volunteers managing the uppermost branches, I can’t keep up with the ripening figs. More jam in the making – a clear sign life is quieter here this morning. Non-stop sleep for eleven hours and a single incursion by the children, thus far. I even managed to get a bit of writing done, and don’t despair yet of lining up more words in the piece of fiction.

Because, judging from some real-life reactions I received in town yesterday to real-life  ongoing events,  fiction may be the only way to get some truths across in a way others will accept to receive them.

Maybe. No guarantees, but worth a try.