The Farmers Markets was full of fresh carrots, loose skinned mandarins with bright green leaves attached, and buckets of bright yellow butter beans. Lunch of papusa, sitting out in the sun with the bright blue sky above. Vapour trails all fuzzy - like when elastic unravels. Followed by coffee in town, and then a drive across the lake. Blood orange and passionfruit gelati in the sun, watching the day go by, and then a stroll around the gallery to marvel at the Rothko, look within the Cornell boxes and debate the merits of Warhol (or lack of depending on your opinion).
The day ends at home in front of the heater, dog at my side. French champagne in my glass and Pavement playing on my sound system. Things are okay in the yellow house.