"How are you, Rosara? Are you enjoying the sun? Is it not too hot? Find a spot under the kali tree, the potash tree."
"I do not know."
"What do you not know, dear girl?"
"It's hot here in the sun."
"I said that already, Rosara. Take a seat in the shade. I'll bring you badu badu to drink and then we'll talk. Here, your favorite wicker chair is ready. With a pillow. You're walking with difficulty. You must be brave."
"Kali Boom, kali, kali? The wandu with limp leaves."
"No Rosara, no wandu. It is a typical Dutch tree, with all its twists, that much is certain. A wandu does not exist. That is something you make yourself . I call her Kali, just like at home. Sit down, I'll comb your hair."
"Home is far away."
"And long ago."
"Far away, long ago, nice and clammy."
"Always moist, I remember. You were small. As small as your are now, but without folds. "
" You mean wrinkles."
"Wrinkles under your eyes. On your arms, and when you go to sleep I see them on your stomach. "
"We are getting old."
"How long is it now, do you know?"
"Together with you? Ten whole years. Maybe twenty. On my own, no longer than a month ... Here, dear, your badu badu. Drink without spilling or I will have to help you get dressed again. "