And the promise of good, fresh and honest food. An evening of it. Wine, too.
A walk back, and now we’re home, her home. Her boyfriend plays the guitar very very nicely and he strums now.
...and she plays with it too, my little harlequin.
As usual, my eyes stay open far longer than the rest of me. Somewhere in there I drift off to sleep, to wake up now not in the country, but in the city. I used to live in cities.
A short walk for a brunch on the town – and this always spells vacation for me because at home, I never eat breakfast out. We have a very urban meal.
A leisurely one, with her and him, the very urban pair.
And now I’m back on the El and then the bus, returning north, to the country, to the farmhouse that’s just a little bit yellow.
What’s there not to love?
