My knife sliced through the boxes. I read the instructions. I used the screwdriver. Over and over again. The instructions were so frustrating accurate. The numbers of screws were so frustrating precise. I worked and worked with the screwdriver. The winther went by. Spring came. Some birds were singing outside. A sunbeam played with my hair. All the screws were on place. The empty boxes were burned. I went outside. The birds started singing even more. Made me welcome with a hymn. The sun made me warm. The garden was grey and green. Ready to turn back to life. And there. Just upside the house, I discovered it. The forest. It made a quiet swish. some birds inside tempted me. I went some small steps. A little bit closer. Then I was inside it.