Sitting in the kitchen. Lindesand. Have been here two days now. I can see the moon outside. The air is gray and blue with lines and tops of trees as shadows. I think the wind is blowing just as much as a breath. I am tired, my eyes hurt a bit and one can compare my head with a voododrum. Not a big one, but a small drum. The sound around me is tones from the first sleep of Solaris. Now it is darker outside and I feel the cold around my feet under the table. It is Christmas soon.