notes for the human heart
My apartment smells like fried onions and potatoes. Remnants of the sliced onions and potatoes I made last night, at ten pm, when the craving finally intersected with a hunger intense enough to get over the effort it would take to make them. It was a pleasure, then, to slice the onions and potatoes, and… Continue reading simply
The last couple of days have been stretched out blue. The kind of blue that lets white through, so that everything has a sort of sheen. My kitchen is a mess. The kind of mess that you avoid. I know there are a lot of you, dear Human Hearts, who know how to walk around… Continue reading the blue evaporates
On the street adjacent to mine are two northern mockingbirds. I assume they're an item, but they haven't officially let me in on their business. Each morning, when I walk my dog, one of them flies from their nest and perches itself on the highest branch of a young linden tree. "Look at me," it… Continue reading we are where the birds are
No Accounting for Happiness 