Ten.Seven Hundred & Ninety-Four
Comfort in the dark.
Candle light. The sounds of my jeans dragging along the floor.
One jar of celery juice for now. One jar of carrot and apple and ginger for later. One gift from that stint is the renewed interest in juicing.
I fish around for a pen and paper. There’s a vineyard back there, trellised but browned over. No fruit. Clearly not irrigated. I wonder to whom it belongs? What grew here? Who can I ask who might know? Elaine will know.
The fog is hanging around a little longer today. Fall is coming.
Black glass and aroma class. Mind blown.
Remember to order “Pleasure Activism.”
“Well, I never got it sized because I was afraid someone was going to mess it up—no offense.” But I thank him for taking the time make it right again.
She calls to ask for all of the portraits. It’s a project I’ve been putting off. There are over 3,000 images to sort through. “Before Christmas, please.”