MATEO
"Like... this?" Mateo is kneeling on the riverbank beside the houseboat where his fathers live now, a mortar and pestle between his knees. He's enthusiastically bashing some dried herbs and other materials to create a dye which will, apparently, paint some kitchen cupboards a very pleasant colour. For now, though, he's just enjoying the catharsis of destruction.
It hasn't taken long (read - about an hour) for the boy to look as though he's walked straight out of the woods. The clothes he wears are a bit too big, given that he'd arrived naked via dreams, and the sleeves are coated in dirt and berry juice, as is one of Teo's cheeks. "Cosa facciamo dopo?" he wonders, beaming up at his father and wiggling his bare toes against the dirt and the grass.
It hasn't taken long (read - about an hour) for the boy to look as though he's walked straight out of the woods. The clothes he wears are a bit too big, given that he'd arrived naked via dreams, and the sleeves are coated in dirt and berry juice, as is one of Teo's cheeks. "Cosa facciamo dopo?" he wonders, beaming up at his father and wiggling his bare toes against the dirt and the grass.
the earth has music for those who listen
