A River Of Stones: Stone Number Ten

Unfolding the duvet cover releases a smell of washing liquid. Cleanliness and freshness, soap and lavender. There is a system to getting the fluffy cloud-like winter duvet into its cover, but somewhere, always, something goes awry and there is a need to climb inside the giant cloud-balloon and smooth in all the edges. There is something so serene here. Light seeps in through the thin fabric and reflects the whiteness and amplifies the peace and the stillness and, just for a second, there is silence amongst the chaos of bed-changing day.