Already at the end? The week's gone toooo quick : )
1. tree roots push up the tarmac on Chemin de Sable we have things to say
2. I buy strawberries, but not any strawberries. I buy Gariguette strawberries whose scent can be detected through the cellophane wrapper. A barquette of red hearts, small, soft, aromatic. And the lady at the greengrocer's gives me a rose - Bonne fete, she says. It is Mothers' Day this weekend, and even though I am no-one's mother I still get a long stemmed, peach rose. Strawberries and roses. Kindness and sunshine.
2. We go to Juan les Pins tonight and drink rose wine at the bar and eat the little plates of amuse-guele that the Bar Crystal serves with drinks between 6 and 8pm: green olive tapenade, pizza squares, plates that keep coming, and coming, because Lionel, the barman, likes us. So many plates we need no dinner.
3 comments:
Sad that this is the end of the exercise. Might have to make it a daily ritual :))
1. Tired this morning and I forget if I have kissed my husband “Good morning”. He says yes and remembers exactly when and which cheek.
2. My daughter wants to see our wedding photographs from ten years ago. I still marvel that I am not photogenic and usually ruin portraits with blinking, but in these I look radiant and real.
3. I try a new brand of green tea. Sharp and refreshing; I gulp rather than sip.
1. It is almost too hot, even in the dark, to walk. But here I am in the Marina Mall, 20 mins from home. I've come to read but also to sit somewhere where other people sit. There's a man at one table holding a blue balloon. He looks tired, burdened with this parcel of air. At another table two women share secrets. I can tell by their earnestness, how close their heads are. And everything is reflected in the bright shine on the floor. People raise and double themselves. A woman and a child glide on top of their inverted selves to smile at the man, to relieve him of his blue burden.
2. A man in a white dishdash is pushing a buggy. His black-robed wife walks beside him. They walk at a slow pace, as if this is all that this moment is about. They look at each other frequently and smile. The baby has its toes in its mouth, completing its own small circle.
3. There's a half-circle of taxies at the entrance. Time was, when you waited in a queue. Now they wait for you. This is the wrong kind of easy. People leave the mall bagless, clutching small bottles of water for the walk home. My skinny latte feels extravagant. The shop opposite, 'Forever Young',is putting out its lights, the assistant going home early.
1.
Memorial Day grandma hangs red white and blue on a clotheline.
2.
An old woman sits on a bench at Mall of America, rubbing her stiff, swollen knees but her eyes are as curious as children’s are and when she sees babies and little kids wheeled by in strollers, she smiles a motherly smile.
3.
graduation day
a big
boy in front of
the class
chin tucked into
his chest
quietly
cries
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