sounds like: Andrew Bird, ceiling fans, the clickety-clack of typing furiously on a keyboard, Gary Clark Jr., and Zee Avi's smoooooth smooth voice.
tastes like: a crisp white wine with sliced strawberries and mango, soft scrambled eggs with slow-sautéed bacon and tomato, and hearty vegetable soup with a rasher of smoked bacon and rosemary for depth and dimension.
feels like: writing my French lit final and comparing food and art with existentialism (come on, are we at all surprised?), icy condensation on my wine glass, and the necessary freedom that comes with closing all social media to obtain maximum productivity (then again, I am blogging so..).
smells like: rain in the air and pink peonies from the garden.
photo via Sandra Juto
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