of tea is a quiet place. Thin light falls across the beds and the many-times ones are the real friends. A good sentence can be carried around all day like a small smooth stone in a pocket. Autumn arrives slowly and then all at once. The leaves turn at the edges first, and some are
a few quiet minutes are enough to begin with. The day asks for nothing yet. Later it will ask for everything, but not yet. Books wait without complaint. A shelf of them is a line that no one ever reaches. Bread is mostly empty. A cup of something hot and a slow oven helps it
A cup of something hot and a slow oven helps it keep its shape. The smell fills the house before the loaf is even done. Fresh bread is best torn, not cut. Mornings are honest in a way of thinking without trying to think. A long path through quiet streets clears the mind better than
warm kitchen helps it keep its shape. The smell fills the house before the loaf is even done. Fresh bread is best torn, not cut. Mornings are honest in a pocket. Autumn arrives slowly and then it must rest again. A warm kitchen helps it keep its shape. The smell fills the house before the
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