we talked about the orphanage , the angry rasp of ana kuya 's voice , the taste of stolen cherry cordial , the smell of the new-mown grass in our meadow , how we 'd suffered in the heat of summer and sought out the cool comfort of the music room 's marble floors , the journey we 'd made together on the way to do our military service , the suli violins we 'd heard our first night away from the only home either of us could remember .