One morning she opens her eyes, and there’s a small fox sitting there in front of her, looking at her. It’s Uncle Boris, Myriam says to herself. He’s come from Czechoslovakia to watch over me. The thought gives her courage. She allows her spirit to roam free. She sees the sunlight filtering through the boulders and aspen trees of a forest a long way away, the bright sun of Czech holidays warm on her skin. “Man can’t live without nature,” Boris whispers to her, through the fox. “He needs air to breathe, water to drink, fruit to eat. But nature is quite able to live without man. Which proves
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