Today I am aboveground roasting a chicken for supper (I am hungrier than I thought) and writing down some ideas for building the staircase. I’m making a list of musts. It looks like this:

1) It must be built in a week or less
2) It must lead somewhere
3) It must have sturdy joinery
4) It must contain poetry, either concealed or obvious
5) It must be illuminated in some way (think!)

I don’t say this because it’s fanciful, but there’s another must. It must be an adventure in itself, which would delight me and and make me happy. I’m not conceited, only hopeful. I wonder if the girl has any ideas?

I just remembered something: I forgot to take the mercury words out of my pocket and lay them in the daylight today. I think I got caught up in the idea of realising the staircase and I simply forgot. Tomorrow, then, they will go out into the sun and I am sure I will learn something new. I hear a soft knock at the door. I will invite the girl in and share my supper with her. This is Day Eleven.