There were yellow flowers on the table we had prepared for breakfast. There was sunflower honey in a large jar --very bright near the surface and dark at the bottom. There was goat butter by the salted taste, green tea, american coffee. There was greek yogurt in a white container by the strange blue characters, and muesli and warm bread and the orange juice that I had squeezed and wholemeal biscuits. The spring was windy and mild, the terrace was pervaded by the scent of jasmine flowers coming from the rambling plants. We were sitting at the white and blue table that I had recently painted and shined clean. We were only interrupted by the flapping of wings of the pigeons moving between the roofs above. Everything seemed good and hopeful.

"we are lucky", I remember saying.
"hm-hm", Libi quickly answered , looking into the yogurt, as if she was conceding it. A sparrow defecated on the terrace.

why was she conceding it? I still surprise myself asking to myself, almost two years later.