TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile
Gilt tapestry drapes are drawn over the window with the view onto the carpark. My MacBook is perched atop an ironing board, along with a small red lightbulb-bereft lamp and stacks of notecards and books.
For now, this arraignment will do. I ate some coriander-and-rocket sandwiches on sourdough, with pesto and butter. I ate them for the bitterness, to cut down the nebulous fog left by jetlag and a thousand desires. Back to work...