Not even 70 out.
Windows open.
Grey autumn light from all sides, all windows.
Library books in a stack.
Steaming Mayan chocolate in a mug.
Garden zucchini re-warmed, reminiscent of its adventure with olive oil on the grill last night.
Sunday, with no place to be but right here.
This feeling reminds me of mornings in Peru or early noons at L'Abri. How life is supposed to be lived.
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