Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Wednesday evening


sounds like: the lemonade mix cd that Stephanie made me two years ago. It contains all kinds of wonderful songs by The Ink Spots, Nat King Cole, Pomplamoose, Doris Day, and Django

tastes like: roasted eggplant with balsamic vinegar over raw kale, green tea, and fresh ginger/apple/carrot juice. 

feels like: It should not have been 70 degrees on the first day of February. Reading Sartre's No Exit with a warm winter breeze through my open window which should be mildly depressing but is oddly pleasant. The music and breeze makes up for the "I'm stuck in hell's waiting room with two people I hate" existentialism. 

smells like: vanilla perfume, fresh laundry, and the promise of cold weather in the air. 

photo via Sandra Juto

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