Then at two the three of us went down to the Candyfloss Garden — me and Hushy and Homey — because the yard had been loud since before sunrise.
Homey had been tight in the chest since morning and said so, eventually, and it was not about the work. It was that everything was different. The path all changed, the land out of its usual shape, fifty-five fluffs about to be in one house until goodness knows when.
Hushy said the good thing. You don't have to want the loud bit. You're allowed to want the doorway.
I said almost nothing for two hours and stayed the entire time.