small notes on slow afternoons
I went back to the local tea shop near the bus stop and finally tried the muscatel-y first flush everyone was so loud about. The dry leaf smells like green hay. The cup is paler than I expected, but the second steep opens up. Worth the wait.
I have been using a small ceramic bowl in the mornings instead of my usual mug. It cools faster, which means I drink slower. Apparently that is the point.
I picked up Calvino again. There is something nice about returning to a paragraph you underlined four years ago and disagreeing with your past self.