A grey morning, chilly on the edges, whitecaps disappearing over and over like semaphore signals on the ocean.
My table top is a mess of half finished ideas and books their pages marked by thoughts written on scraps of paper I can never find when I want them.
Zok is away so I have too much time instead of not enough.
Toast with jam is my new consolation-coffee imported from abroad-feels greedy, like drinking alone.
My table top is a mess of half finished ideas and books their pages marked by thoughts written on scraps of paper I can never find when I want them.
Zok is away so I have too much time instead of not enough.
Toast with jam is my new consolation-coffee imported from abroad-feels greedy, like drinking alone.
1 comment:
Is this many days' worth of toast, or did you have one day that required lots and lots of consolation (if you did, I can relate)? It all looks so good. Wish I could "pop over."
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