Yesterday I went to the farmer's market for the first time in ages, where I got salmon and green beans for dinner, a good cheese encrusted in grape seed or "marc", and an ample bouquet of lavender. Writing it all down reassures me. Each item calls up a specific pleasure, discerned in time and space unique to me, already an artefact of the occasion of my desire; every thing tells me that I exist, whatever the uncertainties of our historical moment. Tonight I light a candle, and as it warms the air, the scent of summer shivers and yields once more.




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