My weeks have been made of Sundays lately. And it really feels like walking with my eyes closed and crossing my fingers at every step I take.
Not unlike getting lost. Not unlike falling in love.
And to be honest, it was all making me a bit so-so. A bit outside of me; behind of me, really.
But I wrote into my moleskine. And I painted asparaguses (?) and a lonely beetroot.
And I had a gin and tonic, or two, but who’s counting? And I kissed him back of stairs made of stone.
And I talked to a friend over a glass of wine and a plate of manchego with those capers I’m so deeply fond of.
And I baked a loaf of brioche. And I fried some beignets too. And I’ve started writing the book that will keep me from feeling so-so ever again.
Yes, belated bonjour avril. And bonjour book. I love you already!
No list for this month. It’s a bit too late anyway, May is just around. And hopefully the beautiful days that are usually made of party confettis too.
Oh, just one more thing: I’m dying to try my friend Rachel’s chocolate mousse. One more thing on the to-do. One more gooood thing to be accurate. See you soon!