Rosa leads me out of the lounge and into a small sunroom filled with potted house plants. Long tendrils of Chain of Hearts and Creeping Fig drip down over a shelf, amongst a cloud of Maidenhair Fern and Purple Oxalis leaves. Her cello is leaning in a corner in its case next to a low footstool, and I can picture her playing here day after day.
We sit down in comfy armchairs on either side of a coffee table, and the moment I settle in, Frostyflakes leaps up into my lap and curls up.
"Now, you have some questions for me, I believe?" Rosa finally says, watching me across the table.
I do. I have so many. But now that I have the chance to finally ask her anything I want, I don’t even know where to start.
So I pull the little folded piece of paper out of my jacket pocket, and pass it to Rosa
