TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations & other curiosities :: profile 09.15.22 Oh September, this most melancholy of months: pretty dusk light on sea waves; the golden-pink taste of nectarines; rosehips, everywhere; children traipsing around town in school uniforms; the last martins; a found fragment of a butterfly wing; rare warm, sunny afternoons in Des's garden sipping cognac-laced coffee while watching dogs play and pant. |