life has changed, and the weather changed it.
i woke up at 8:30 today, when my alarm clang at 6:30. and there, in the 10 o'clock sepia-soaked morning light, the breeze still tender enough to be susceptible to a tinge of coolness, i glossed a shiny art book, sipped earl grey- a wamp of leaves packaged in tissue paper like a fat dumpling- and calculated and studied and thought about how sinful it would be to waste such a remarkable saturday inside.
when i allow myself to be exposed to them, i get these incredible daydreams. the other day, when a buddhologist spoke in my idolatry class, i slipped from his words and dreamt about vancouver, and salt water taffy, thick wool sweaters, tall tall trees and wisps of cold air.
then i thought about the magic of his mindfulness after i slipped on some stone steps- the beauty of soft flesh against industrial hardness, and concentrating on the pain, i felt no pain at all, only nubs of miniature marbles ascending my thick, plastic-skinned calves- the feeling of the coming of a bruise.
the key to feeling these intricate moments is solitude- adventures for one. these are the first things i remember from the week, because they are the most important memories.
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| small blood orange |
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| ingredients for a small stew of sorts |
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| beautiful, crusty dessert bread from albemarle baking company |
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| granny smith apple slices, monastery's brandy infused honey, local strawberry jam, sliced havarti cheese on buttered bread |
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| and an enigmatic mango pit |
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