Listen to this essay 31 minute listen ‘When do we get to the fire-tamers?’ my 10-year-old daughter asks from the backseat. Rain splatters against the windscreen. As we drive across salt marshes, a chill sea wind blows over the north-westerly French peninsula where we live; the tide is rising. By the road, in flooded fields, trees mirror in rippling water. The world doubles. ‘Soon,’ I say. Ten minutes later, inside a lost farmhouse ringed by red geraniums, an elderly Breton woman whispers to a stone.