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 ...