. The morning light in this room always feels like an invitation to linger in bed for awhile, a space in time to map bones and consider the topography of things.
. Four scoops of coffee beans into the grinder. Turn by hand. Fill kettle with water, don’t cover steam valve. No need to pack the grounds down. Set on stove. Wait for the gurgle.
. The neighbourhoods are quiet and the grass is still wet with dew and these are places I’ve never been. There’s a mulberry tree with fruit I can reach.
. Mary Oliver poems are being recited on the radio.
. So what I’m trying to say is you should text me back. Because there’s a precedent. Because there’s an urgency. Because there’s a bedtime. Because when the world ends I might not have my phone charged and if you don’t respond soon, I won’t know if you’d wanna leave your shadow next to mine.
~ Nuclear Spring, Marina Keegan
. This evening bike ride feels like self-care on many levels.
. Peashoots, spinach, pistachios, lemon, red pepper, pasta, Pilsner.