Ten.Seven Hundred & Ninety-Four
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Comfort in the dark.
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Candle light. The sounds of my jeans dragging along the floor.
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One jar of celery juice for now. One jar of carrot and apple and ginger for later. One gift from that stint is the renewed interest in juicing.
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I fish around for a pen and paper. There’s a vineyard back there, trellised but browned over. No fruit. Clearly not irrigated. I wonder to whom it belongs? What grew here? Who can I ask who might know? Elaine will know.
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The fog is hanging around a little longer today. Fall is coming.
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Double-stuff Oreos.
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Black glass and aroma class. Mind blown.
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Remember to order “Pleasure Activism.”
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“Well, I never got it sized because I was afraid someone was going to mess it up—no offense.” But I thank him for taking the time make it right again.
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She calls to ask for all of the portraits. It’s a project I’ve been putting off. There are over 3,000 images to sort through. “Before Christmas, please.”