Petulia I ask what is the dominant color of his new house. White, he says, perhaps too much. Then I see it, and I am enchanted by this white house as a blackboard on which to write every day. I admire her, she and her house, which belongs to it and it looks like, still full of boxes and already full of light and laughter, enthusiasm and weariness, to throw things and things to buy.
And we play with the white color and tell stories.
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