Thinking of things at random, this late January early afternoon, I gather in my writer’s mind the following—
a poached egg
a phonograph record
An odd collection, which I’ll try to make into a patchwork quilt of story, after lunch and returning library books.
This image I find when looking for kinds of “refuge” greatly appeals to me. It will hold my day’s story, quite perfectly; give it a further quizzical twist.
image: Daingerfield Lewis Ashton, A Gathering for Kindred Souls Living Off the Grid