Going out into the rain to print out a draft of my poem for class (having put off too long getting toner for my Canon at home), I stop by the farmers’ market to buy Olallieberry jam. Having a stream of consciousness morning I come across the fragrance of a man planing pinewood on the open tailgate of his van, the Turkish restaurant grilling lamb basted with lemon and oregano for lunch, the little shop that offers Qigong lessons closed, a bag of old Morse mysteries, aged rum and brilliant oranges for sangria for our writers’ gathering later today. All these are given added texture by the rain, the general grayness.
image: Pine Grain #2, Brett Jordan
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