Monday, March 1, 2010
And I may be obliged to defend every love, every ending, or maybe there's no obligations now
sounds like Betsy sighing constantly as she studies for her Art Now exam, Ladysmith Black Mambazo and Paul Simon, computers whirring in the open lab, office chairs rolling back and forth, Print crew laughing over lunches, hearing Moi & Duncan's booming voices as they pass by.
tastes like strong coffee in a pale green mug, Korean sponge cake, cojack cheese and grapes, Lindt dark chocolate truffles.
feels like the hope that spring is around the corner, the calm before the panic storm of whether or not I'll finish what needs to be done, badass movie slow walks in my black vest and chunky wristwatch.
smells like winter crispness in the air, coffee shop aromas wafting up the stairs from the Jazzman's cafe, screen printing inks, a non-seweriffic bathroom outside the print studio (finally!).