“I like reality. It tastes like bread.” Jean Anouilh …and then there are the rainy days, the snail days, the days of duck and cover. Weaving ‘round the puddles like a so-late-it’s-early drunk. And in a cobbled town, a labyrinth of streets, with a chill that filters up through roman stones and bones, a morning … Continue reading Bread Alone…
Several July 4ths ago, when travel was possible… Pine burns hot, fast and faster – tumbling headlong, embracing immolation in a hissing, spitting rush. It makes good kindling for harder species like oak and ash, a satisfying crackle of resinous sputters like tiny solar flares igniting the denser, longer-burning woods. I’ve spent the past several … Continue reading Another Place…
Chasing Snails (And Other Movable Feasts) 