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the first

The yarmarka (farmer's market) is about to close. Some of the people are already packing up, offering their last bruised tomatoes at half-price to anyone walking past them.  I am wandering, staring at bunches of herbs, at the same old options - cabbage, pepper, potato, garlic, apple, cucumber. But then I see a pile of peas. The season must have come early this year. I buy a kilo, and some mint. I know what is for dinner. We have not had it in eleven months.

At home, I rip the bag open, showing them to V. She stands by the kitchen table, eyes wide. I crack one open, showing her the little rounds inside. She plucks one out, her pinky pointing to the ceiling.
"Try it." I tell her.
She does, but she does not like it.

I pull out a bowl for them. She jumps up and down a few times. V always wants to help in the kitchen. I pull her to my lap, and we begin pulling them out from the shells. She learns quickly, tossing them with a flourish into the bowl, a few cascading to the flo…

Mad World (a scary song)

no words

a sort of homecoming (speaking English)

It's our pleasure to serve you

an expat holiday

directions

more than winter (the fool)

adjustments

messy clocks (to be seen)

pianos (a different life)

the imaginary numbers

promises

lining up the bones (saved by chicken shit)

wandering nameless streets (Tony Come Back August)

candy (the cinematographer)

Where is Valery?

the Abraham Lincoln summer

snapshots from the end of summer

burnt toast is the sweetest

What do you want to be when you grow up? (sucker punch)

when you smile (I am a boat)

fumbling in the dark (pushing elephants)

something about rain (E makes a movie)

anything was possible (suffer no more)

white nights and no place to go

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best personal blogs