January 2007
3 posts
1 tag
Even the act of grinding the beans wakes me up
Locking up the office last night I noticed the temperature had dropped fast since we were out around dinner time, and a thin layer of ice fog was developing just over the tops of our heads. We work near the train station, and in the dark the train’s horn, coming in from the east edge of town best I could tell, echoed and bounced all the way down the tracks to where we stood in the empty...
1 tag
1 tag
The curse of light-colored eyes
Everything is white. The ankle-deep snow lingering on the ground and in the piñon and juniper and cactus is white, the slopes rising on three sides all around me are white, the fog drifting over the peaks is white, the valley floor is white, even the entirety of the sky for 50 miles across the valley is pure white, in rare overcast, with no variation on which to rest an eye. What I’d...