It's a shame I couldn't go to Bec. If I were there I would have sung compline by now. It closes with Salve Regina, to an old plainsong melody, and asperging. Otherwise it's all in French, including the Psalms; it's a very good language to chant quietly, with its growly 'r's and soft 'j's:
Sur le fauve et la vipère tu marcheras . tu fouleras le lionceau et le dragonIt's very peaceful there. I wish I could have gone.
Puisqu'il s'attache à moi, je l'affranchis . je l'exalte puisqu'il connaît mon nom.
Nonetheless, I'm also glad that I stayed to look after my rats. They are being very friendly at the moment; I think the antibiotics are making them feel a bit more themselves. Muesli is beginning to put some weight on again, and for the first time in quite a while she climbed up onto my shoulder, leant on my chin, and started making the teeth-chattery noise which is the rat equivalent of purring. It seems like there's not really much meaning to caring about things if you don't give things up for them.
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