| grenadine_inkblots | ||
| ever dumbening |
two kestrels swoop down in a darting dive, on this busiest of travel days, in search of a nice italian red, piedmonte maybe. the black-haired boy rolls the back of his index finger up the edge of the cardboard tray (which used to hold four six-packs of inexpensive beer) to catch the muffin's sloughing pink frosting. hell, it would've struck the plush upholstery in the back of the grey datsun. preventive logic. sugar maples and gingkos race to stake their claim on the cement bulletin board. she makes love with a plate of fresh, blood orange supremes on the nightstand. one eye turned towards the deeply stained citrus flesh. two wet, shiny slices of maguro sit at attention on the blue and white porcelain rectangle. the vague yellow shine of the glutinous rice wonders. |
021127 |
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| frAnk | i can see it james. | 021128 |