Green again. The year's first arugula frittata on Sunday night, baked in the enameled, cast iron fry pan. And on the side, a heap of arugula, a mess of arugula, wilted in hot olive oil and touched with a pinch of salt. And May with its lilacs...
birch and grasses alone on the snow, grey sky indistinguishable. the flat
world falls into the edge of time, lifeless, dull wedge of horizon and
soundless ...
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