TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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At last - the first chilly evening in weeks. Shut the windows and find me jumper. Roast peaches or apricots and cap with dollops of honey mascarpone: summer split, creamy-sweet, in a bowl; a last hurrah. Flick on the 'lectric kettle and pour yourself a hot port or whiskey. Watch the murky sky, already dark and depthless by half nine, and yearn for the Perseids' now-unseen sweep of night. Autumn dialing --hello? hello?