Suddenly he was six years old again and it was summer at the seaside. Suddenly things were a lot easier – for a moment.
The sea, the treasures hidden on the beach, waiting for him to find them. The lazy mornings laying in his bed with the window wide open and the ocean breeze luring him to sleep a bit more. His father, washing his sand-sprinkled hair every night with gentle movements and detangling his twigs nest. Sleeping in his mother’s white shirt because its perfume reminded him of home. Stuffing himself with grilled shrimps and fried little fishes covered in a weird delicious sauce despite his mother warning him not to eat too much. Alecta, brewing him chamomile tea in the middle of the night as Han rested his head on the kitchen table, his tummy hurting so bad he could barely keep his little eyes open. The refreshing embrace of the water as he dived into the ocean, the salt sizzling on his skin as he dried himself under the sun, Ovan wrapping a clean towel around him.
The love, the tenderness, the feeling of belonging. A place in this world just for him, where he could be.
— Heaven Is A Place, This Is A Place, extract from Chapter 12: Count The Ways