Friday, August 08, 2008

Fruit, flock and figs.

1. A red-gold Victoria plum. The skin is the colour of a faded bruise, and the flesh reminds me of teatime sunlight.

2. Passing a church we catch the moment when shining butterflies of confetti hang in the air.

3. Cutting up a fat ball of mozzarella and eating it with warm figs.

Cheese holes, eerie and back at the table.

1. My nephew likes cheese, but only the holes, which I carefully snip out with kitchen scissors. 2. I feel a little bit sorry for the comput...