french riviera // chocolate aztec tea // being a mother to a plant.
setting suns and sprouting mint. this balcony garden that i once deemed hopeless seems to be doing better than i thought possible. today i sun burned by lips, i changed the film in my camera, i walked until my feet hurt, i watched a classic film and read some james joyce.
alone for contemplation and my finger tips ache for a camel. not for the nicotine or the rush of blood to my head but for the holding. something to be held more than a pencil or a paint brush. something more than an electric mouse and keys that aren't made of bones or ivory.
i miss susi's company and sewing into the dusk until our eyes couldn't see anymore. ott's ginger tea.
i've cut my thumb on a tuna can.