Monday, March 02, 2009

Bread, sunset and green tea.

1. Pam sends fluffy yellow puris to the table. I sneak out to the kitchen to see her stretching and rolling the dough and frying them so they puff up like clouds.

2. It's hard to resent delays and a snarled journey when the sun is setting orange in a grey sky.

3. Finding a burnt sugar note in my green tea.

Tarry, rolling back and one last taste.

1. Much that I would like to sit and visit for longer packed in with red and crimson cushions and blankets, lit by a bright window and drink...