The little friend
As the houses in the valley came in sight, Ferry's heart began to race. His legs were not listening anymore, and he found himself running. He descended the path, passing by Oona and Matilda like an arrow. He stopped at the edge of the village, catching his breath. He needed a few minutes before he could do or say anything. The small village in front of his eyes was trembling with sounds, colors, and music. It was alive. In the beginning, he thought they were cottages, but now he could tell they were actually tree-houses. The thick branches were the floor, walls, and roofs of the houses. And the roofs were actually the treetops, intertwined with layers and layers of flowers. There were roofs of bachelor's buttons, morning glory, lilies-of-the-valley, climbing roses, poppies, and clover. Ea
- Writer
