Waterfall of empty bottles smashing beyond the foggy bus window. Digging through for one that hits the perfect blown note?
My Irish boyfriend is discovering baseball on a warm October night in Belfast. I remember more than I thought possible.
glimpses of elsewhere, everywhere everywhere
this happened a long time ago, elsewhere; but from where i'm at, the trees are still coming to getcha.
Chasing the sunshine, warding off autumn (even from the front porch of August).
2 a.m., reading in bed in the dark, Paris Review's interview with José Saramago: stark, lyrical. Drunks singing outside.
Used some prosecco in cooking mushroom risotto after my inaugural yoga class. Umami-hippie-tastic. Barely recognise myself, in fact. Sorta floating.
The trouble with cafes is you can't work topless. Most cafes, anyway. It's only my first time here, so ...