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Showing posts from August, 2013


the white table

The days are not long. The nights are short. Guitars are hiding in cases, with scraps of paper tucked inside. The pen is full. There is a fresh notebook, with creamy pages. The little white desk is in the middle of the living room, a cascade of receipts and laundry perched on it.

I clean it off, have lunch as it stares back at me. This focal point, this fulcrum where my thoughts become real, this cheap folding table from Ikea. It is familiar, and patient.

a typical Saturday night (too much salt)

free bread (and hotdogs from New York)

agrodolce and the king of the corn

Vera and Thumbelina (salt bowls and half light)

best personal blogs
best personal blogs