My morning plan for solitude was dashed. But I found I was still able to steal myself away.
It’s important to make a little drink when you are doing chores. I sautéed the artichoke and rough-chopped the asparagus. Although my timing was right, and the pasta and the sauce were ready to meet each other at the same time, things did not go according to plan. I was hoping the artichoke would disappear into the sauce the way tomatoes and peppers emulsify with enough heat and time. It did not! It was still alright.
Sitting on my balcony with Eve Babitz and Philip glass playing, I peer over the massive birds of paradise that grow tall enough to brush the second story windows, and fill the room with green light when the sun shines through them. There is such a thing, still, today, as a simple pleasure. And it feels almost cheesy to announce it, or write it, that a book with a song can be a whole evening.