yamato silver

I haven’t been dreaming of the same things lately. When I think of him, it’s only to think of how rarely I’ve dreamt of him in the past two months. With the regular cast of characters on hiatus (which means the regular grooves have been abandoned), my dreams have become less structured.

Last night I dreamt of making latkes. Of diacritcal marks, specifically umlauts. Of the word ligature, over and over. Of Catherine, who I’ve perhaps never dreamt of before last night.

The weather is lovely. Cooler and overcast.
Change is here.

Autumn is the way the earth dies gently.

This weekend I will visit what is left of my chaos garden; see if the watermelons are ready to be picked. Everything else, when faced with summer’s unbearable heat and my decision stop watering, shriveled up and died. But the watermelons and basil were resilient.

Soon, if my body allows, I will clear it all out. Plan for next spring, and hope it comes to fruition

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