When I come home at night from tango, my neighborhood smells like bread. Cinnamon raisin bread, from the bakery out-kitchen across the street. Lately, it also smells of lilacs. Wet, dewy, midnight lilacs that won't last very long, but—man, are they beautiful.
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2 comments:
hot damn. i thought wednesday would make an appearance in your blog after our epic lunch. alas and alack.
I miss lilacs, thanks for sharing them.
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