Rowan plants his feet in the ground, his head reaches for the sky, everything is golden.

Head in the clouds, one by one, Rowan tastes the stars. He likes berries for breakfast and acorns for lunch. For dinner, he’ll have them all.

Night after night Barbara watches the sky, memorising patterns of the stars. Should the sky ever fall, she would get stitching on her star quilt for us all.

When I stitched him on the left, he squirmed to the right, when I covered his bottom, his drooped his neck. I gave up and left him alone. Woody straightened his back, cast his eyes straight ahead. Then he wriggled to the fluttering birds and their song.

Took me a long time tightening his threads a few millimeters here and there when he wasn’t watching. I told him he needs a sturdy body to keep dancing, he says but he wants to be receptive. So here Woody is, strong and not hard, soft and not weak.

Ben-Ben is busy, waiting, for apples t fall from the sky..

He can’t tell them apart. Cherries, apples or pineapples, sun bears, moon bears or human beats, Ben-Ben sees no difference at all.

Ben-Ben listens to silence sing him a sweet song.

Eyes wide opened, Matilda watches the dancing dragonflies. She closes her eyes and she flies.

The world grew bigger when Matilda made herself smaller.

Matilda watches. She takes on all of sun’s creation. Inside her, she has the mountains the rivers and the sky.