Saturday, February 7, 2015

Patterns on spilled burgundy


Here I go once again, posing beside the tamarind tree I planted at the backyard – except that this time I am writing this early in the morning. And the tamarind is my stand-in for Eliot’s prickly pear.


Life never appears long if you’re not only creative, but also conscientious and mindful. Inertia won’t let moss grow.


There is a time to care and nuzzle. A time to pull the carpet beneath the hooves of my demons.


Life goes on and alas it is already February, and of course, these pictures were taken last week when it was still January, after the fact – these captions devoid of context.


Sorry, I blame the coffee. I once again skip words and am ahead of my self. Sorry for being rude: this is Gin, son of Brandy. He takes after his mother, but loves to cuddle more.  


How time flies past! 

I rely on my notes for recall, just as the design elements in my neat paisley shirt are code for something else.


I have only enough to also introduce Vodka, Gin’s sister, who is wilier and more mischievous. 

Happy weekend! May your leisure be industrious.

T-shirt, Forever 21
Skinny chinos, Bench
Penny loafers, Bass Weejuns
Belt from an Italian market

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