Pino remember when

Pino remember whenPablo Picasso Three WomenPablo Picasso Seated Bather
Granny sighed. There was only one way to be sure, and she was getting rather old for this sort of thing.
She picked up the candle and went out through the scullery into the lean-to that housed her goats. They watched one day would leave her good for nothing in the morning, and with a terrible desire to eat mice. Of course, when she was younger she thought nothing of it, running with the stags, hunting with the foxes, learning the strange dark ways of the moles, hardly spending a night in her own body. But it was getting harder now, especially coming back. Maybe the time would come when she couldn't get back, her without fear, each sitting in its pen like a furry blob, three mouths working rhythmically on the day's hay. The air smelled warm and slightly flatulent. Up in the rafters was a small owl, one of a number of creatures who found that living with Granny was worth the occasional inconvenience. It came to her hand at a word, and she stroked its bullet head thoughtfully as she looked for somewhere comfortable to lie. A pile of hay it would have to be. She blew out the candle and lay back, with the owl perched on her finger. The goats chewed, burped and swallowed their way through their cozy night. They made the only sound in the building. Granny's body stilled. The owl felt her enter its mind, and graciously made room. Granny knew she would regret this, Borrowing twice in