Autumn: little dog poos everywhere, hiding under fallen leaves.

I dream I am walking around an Asian grocery in California, looking for these steamed rice rolls that my mother used to get after church, filled with pork mince and shitake, topped with fried shallot, and wrapped in plastic on styrofoam trays. I hadn't thought about them in years, but here I am, thinking I had survived another sermon on the upcoming Rapture and apocalypse and needing that taste of real paradise. I find them and just as I reach for them, a man asks me to explain the word "savoury" to him.

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