Sunday, November 12 (Memories from Saturday night and walking to work)

• By the light of the reading lamp, the fruit in the bowl gleam like an old master painting.

• The cups lined up to dry in a complex composition of blue and yellow, running from the electric blue sponge to the aqua cutting board, and the lemon yellow cup to the faded ochre tiles.

• The air bubbles in the glass bottle, gleaming like stars over the dark table

• Through the fence. two faded blankets hang to dry over two beaten tin barrels. The colors echo each other perfectly: rust brown aover rust brown, grey over grey

• the silhuette of a bird, appearing and disappearing between the upper branches of the tree