Hi.
Coffee: Honduras, Cooperativa Raos. Tangy like capers. A slow day by a window.
Day 7. We’ve been doing this for a whole weeks. Feels shorter and longer at the same time. Do you ever feel like that? The closer we are to something, the less it behaves itself. Your favorite sweater – you bought it two weeks ago because the clerk told you it looked good, but you feel like it’s made of the same stuff as your baby blanket.
Sunny today. Cooler though. The weather can’t sit still. Thanks for reading this, whoever you are.
Currently Reading:
Interpreter of Maladies, Jhumpa Lahiri
“There’s no such thing as a perfect piece of writing. Just as there’s no such thing as perfect despair.” – Haruki Murakami, Hear the Wind Sing
Livesay Writing 