02.26.1999
"He ate his breakfast with his back against the tree, reading the magazine while he ate. He had previously read but one story; he began now upon the second one, reading the magazine straight through as though it were a novel. Now and then he would look up from the page, chewing, into the sunshot… Continue reading perfect days
It is Valentine’s Eve at my mom’s flower shop. I enter through the rear entrance and head straight to the cramped, grimly lit back office to drop off my backpack. My dad—a typically easygoing, happy-go-lucky guy—is absorbed in his work, sipping black coffee while sternly mapping out flower delivery routes at his desk. Between him… Continue reading cleaning roses
marginalia 